


let me be your everlasting light

by HiddenEye



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Blood and sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, But that’s okay, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Relationship(s), Top Steve Rogers, Vampire Bucky Barnes, Vampire Steve Rogers, Vampires, mentions of friends with benefits, mentions of polyamory, sometimes you sleep with your friends in the early stages of your friendship, you’re just gonna laugh about it later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28148427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: “How long has it been since you’ve been turned?”The kid dropped his arms in surprise. Steve could see the way his Adam’s apple jumped as he tried to think of something to say. “What are you talking about?”“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Steve told him, and the kid took a step back. “I’m gonna ask you this once again, because it’s no good for us to talk about it here, where anyone can hear us.”“There’s no one—““How long,” Steve talked over him in a slightly louder voice, and the kid immediately shut up. “Has it been?”It turns out if you take in a fledgling to live in your home, you’d develop feelings for him. Steve, half a millennia years old, for Bucky, a youngun’.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 30
Kudos: 233





	let me be your everlasting light

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: the title is from The Black Key's Everlasting Light.
> 
> Here it is, the Vampire!Steve & Baby Vampire!Bucky I once rambled on Twitter about. I planned to post this earlier but life seems to have bit me in the ass and I only managed to finish it today. Which I’m glad I did, because I can finally focus on the paper I have tomorrow [finger guns]. 
> 
> Fair warning: lots of biting. Lots of blood. Lots of enamoured Steve. You get the gist.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

Steve knew he was being followed ten seconds after he got out of the convenience store.

With the plastic bag swinging around his wrist, he thought that he should just turn around and tell the dude to fuck off and leave him alone, but he was curious to see if this was going to turn tits up with the sort of flourish that doomed men would usually suffer through.

The man behind Steve was fifteen feet away, and he was playing the whole stalker thing with the complete essentials of cap, hoodie, and buried hands in sweater pockets shebang that Steve thought he could have at least done this when they weren’t the only two people alone.

Because what was the point of stalking people if they’d just know you were _there?_

Half an hour ago, it was two thirty in the morning and Steve was suddenly craving for a bottle of mango juice. An unusual beverage to want for a vampire like himself, but they were not all _‘Bleh bleh, I vant blood’_ 24/7 and Steve thought that was one of the stupidest stereotypes these humans could ever think of them.

Well, not that Steve could blame them. The humans were usually exposed to their culture of needing blood to survive for as long as they live, which included all the teeth and aggressive behaviour. It was unfortunate to them in many ways than one, especially when there were numerous cases of feral vampires going over the line and feeding on them til’ they dried up like a raisin. 

But these humans should be grateful they hadn’t seen vampires stuffing two whole cakes in one sitting. Now _that_ was a terrifying thing to witness. 

There was a difference between terrible cravings and the vicious _want_ that existed in vampires when it came to feeding — the former would usually result in them being whiny and grumpy, adopting the resemblance of a toddler who didn’t get his nap for the day. The latter went hand-in-hand with fatigue, migraines, and being too snappy for everyone else’s own good. By then, it turned dangerous, and reason would be a blunt weapon to use on them.

Steve once ate two pies without breaking a sweat. It was good pie and unlike whatever other stereotypes that were dug out from someone’s ass, vampires would not puke their guts out from oversensitivity of tongue, taste, and stomach. Again, that was just human propaganda against vampires to the very core.

Oh, look, the man who had been stalking Steve was following him through the playground.

It would take an extra five minutes to get home, but Steve could now confirm that his little follower was definitely trying to kill him.

Steve tried not to scoff. Not to toot his own horn, but the man could _try_.

There was a breeze that came from behind him, and Steve made a show of tightening his jacket around him even if the cold didn’t affect him as much. Gotta play the weak prey part, after all. He studied enough of his own prey from time to time to know what to do.

That was when he smelled it. It was the kind of smell newborn baby humans would have the moment they popped out into the world, except this was something stronger, and maybe sweeter around the edges when you knew where to look.

It was the smell of a newly turned fledgling, and the man behind him reeked of it.

A kid vampire was trying to kill him, not knowing that Steve was a vampire himself.

Steve tried not to sigh in irritation. Honestly, who was this kid’s sire? Didn’t they teach him anything about courteous hunting?

Well, the kid thought that Steve was on his hook and line, and was going for a sinker. He didn’t know Steve already knew what he was. The kid certainly didn’t know _Steve_ was a vampire who knew what _he_ was.

Kids these days, seriously.

Steve only walked on when they got out of the playground and made their way towards the rows of units lined up on each side of the street. The door to his apartment was a shiny thing that was recently repainted, and the smell of paint _still_ made his nose itch, even if it had been a few days since the paint had dried. It looked nice now, though. Steve liked how the dark blue stood out among the white doors of his neighbours.

Steve took out his keys and jammed it into the keyhole.

The fledgling behind him sniffed from the smell of not-so-fresh paint. Then, he froze, as if he remembered he wasn’t supposed to make any noise when he was stalking Steve.

Steve decided to take that as a queue. He turned himself around, looking at his little stalker right in the eye. “You wanna come in?”

That seemed to throw the kid into a loop when he gaped back at Steve. “What?”

“I asked whether or not you wanna come in,” Steve jerked his head towards the door. 

He could see the way the kid blinked rapidly at him despite the shadow of his hoodie covering half of his face. “I— what— why would I—“ He slammed his mouth shut. Steve could hear the gears in the kid’s head trying to crank up for a response as he waited patiently. “ _Why_ are you offering a stranger to walk into your place?”

“I don’t know, why are you stalking me then?”

The kid’s mouth fell open. _Honestly_. “I _wasn’t_ — why would I _stalk_ you—“

“Look, kid,” Steve cut him off, but then the kid stood taller, his chest puffing out like an angry kitten. 

“I’m twenty-four.”

Steve eyed him for a while. “I guess you look twenty-four,” he agreed. “But, you’re still a kid.”

The kid crossed his arms. “You don’t even look that much older than me, jackass. This is, what, some sort of seniority complex you’re going through?”

Now or never.

Steve didn’t look away from the kid’s furrowed brows. “How long has it been since you’ve been turned?”

The kid dropped his arms in surprise. Steve could see the way his Adam’s apple jumped as he tried to think of something to say. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Steve told him, and the kid took a step back. “I’m gonna ask you this once again, because it’s no good for us to talk about it here, where anyone can hear us.”

“There’s no one—“

“How long,” Steve talked over him in a slightly louder voice, and the kid immediately shut up. “Has it been?”

The kid stood there for a while, and Steve could hear the way he was breathing heavily through his nose, as if he was going into a panic attack. Jesus. Do _not_ go into a panic attack. Steve knew vampires didn’t even go into a panic attack when their hearts didn’t beat in the first place, but the years had been long, and mutation was still a thing.

Steve had watched with his own eyes at how a vampire had stayed under the sun for hours. _Without_ the sunscreen. If it were him, he’d be toasted red under the first hour.

Instead, the kid took a deep breath to calm himself down —a human habit Steve knew that would take a while to shake off— and instead said, “Are you one of them, too?”

“I hate to break it to you kid, but you’re one of them now too. And if it makes you feel better,” Steve smiled. “I am.”

The kid hitched in a breath, stumbling another step back when he realised he had been stalking another vampire. “You should’ve known that before you started anything,” Steve chastised him, facing the door again to turn open the lock. “I knew someone was following me the moment I got out of that store. And, to put it frankly,” Steve glanced at him over his soldier. “You smell like a walking Johnson’s Baby Powder.”

He swung the door open and stepped inside. “I’m inviting you to come in,” Steve said, looking at the sad lump of hoodie standing helplessly under the street light. “Second floor. First one on the right. Make sure you close the door.”

Steve went up the stairs without actually expecting the kid would follow, swinging the plastic bag in his hand. Something about pride and confusion that came with the new transformation that happened on someone. 

Steve knew about it, of course.

However, when he was unlocking his door, he could hear the front entrance snapped close.

He tried not to smile, and entered his apartment while leaving the front door open when footsteps hesitantly climbed up the stairs.

Steve was keeping four bottles of mango juice inside the fridge before he straightened himself up, the plastic bag scrunched up in his hand with two of the bottles held between his fingers. He looked up to see the kid standing at the doorway with hands buried deep in his sweater pocket, something distrusting in his eyes when he let them jump from the furniture to the photos on the walls.

Steve stuffed the plastic bag in the bottom drawer full of other paper and plastic bags, before pushing it closed with his foot.

The kid snapped his gaze at him, and his suspicion grew when he took Steve in from head to toe.

Steve made his way towards the living room, avoiding the crumpled part of the carpet that he had been meaning to fix. He really needed to get that fixed.

He waved towards one of the sofas as he switched on one of the lamp lights. They didn’t really need light to see in the dark, but he thought it would give the kid some comfort. “Make yourself comfortable.”

The kid didn’t budge, and instead pulled into himself more when he sliced a look at the said sofas as if they offended him. Steve dropped onto a single-seater and twisted the cap of the mango juice open. “I’m not gonna eat you or anything.”

“Who are you?” The kid finally pushed out, clearly unnerved by the niceties.

“Steve,” Steve replied simply, taking a gulp of the juice. 

The kid eyed it distastefully. Oh, he’d learn how good it actually was. 

“And how do I know you’re actually one of them?” The kid asked instead of giving his own name, and he was still staring at the mango juice, as if refusing to meet his eyes. “The, y’know. Vampires.”

“Been like them longer than you have. Which reminds me,” Steve finished off the bottle with a tilt of his head. 500ml of mango juice wasn’t enough, but the large ones were not available when he got there. He resorted to buying many of the small bottled fruit juice he was suddenly needing to quench his thirst. “You didn’t answer my question. How long has it been since you got turned?”

“Turned into a monster?” The kid questioned slowly while Steve opened another bottle, the empty one on the small round table beside him. “Why should I tell you?”

“Because it’s obvious you don’t know anything,” Steve stopped himself and regarded him for a moment. “Close the door. I don’t wanna to disturb the neighbours.”

“Prove it to me you’re one of them first,” the kid challenged him, defiance tight in his posture. “Prove it to me before I locked myself up with some psychopath—“

In a blink, Steve was already in his space, his shoulders almost knocking against the kid that he staggered back in surprise, his hoodie dropping back from the force as widened eyes stared back at him. 

Not a single drop of mango juice had spilled out of its bottle from where Steve was still holding onto it, the drink as still as death itself.

Steve clutched Bucky’s arm to straighten him, and leaned forward. “I don’t wanna wake up the neighbours,” he repeated quietly. “Some of them and their families already protected me through the years, and now that you’re here, they’re protecting you too. I suggest you close the door, and then we talk.”

The kid tightened his jaw, glaring back at him. “Not until you prove to me you’re one of them.”

The kid had balls. More than some people have these days. Steve could appreciate that. 

With that, Steve grinned, allowing his fangs to grow longer until the sharp tips of them pressed against his bottom lip. He knew his eyes glowed red when he felt them tingle slightly, before the feeling vanished as fast as it came. His nails grew as sharp as his teeth, and they dug into the kid’s arm as Steve kept him in place.

The blue-greys in the kids’ eyes were brighter now that Steve was close to see every single emotion whizzing through his face. “I’m convinced,” the kid muttered, dropping his gaze to Steve’s fangs.

Steve stepped back, tucking his teeth back in and blinking the red away from his eyes. “Close the door,” he ordered, and this time, the kid listened without a single protest.

Steve pointed to the love seat. “Sit. We have a lot to talk about.”

“Why?” The kid eyed the sofa for a second before slowly made his way towards it. He perched himself on the armrest instead, hands spread on his thighs. 

“Because you’re a fledgling who unknowingly hunted down another vampire without double checking just _what_ I am first.” Steve settled back on the single-seater, tilting his head to chug half of the bottle easily. “What’s your name?”

“Bucky.” 

“Well, Bucky, did you know that hunting down a fellow vampire is considered the most insulting thing that can be done amongst us vampires?”

Bucky frowned, fingers tugging on one another. “Uh, no?”

“Which brings me to two questions, one of them I’ve been trying to get out of you since I met you.” Steve set aside the second empty bottle for the night beside its sibling, and then gave his full attention to Bucky. “How long has it been since you got turned?”

“That’s only one question.” Bucky pointed out.

“And you’re gonna answer that first,” Steve arched an eyebrow. “Well?”

Bucky bit his bottom lip, before wincing slightly when a fang pinched through the soft flesh. He couldn’t even keep his fangs in just yet; they’re not fully extended like one was feeding, but it was there nonetheless and it was giving him trouble. Jesus, how old was this kid? “A week, maybe.”

 _Jesus._ He was a fucking _baby_. Steve stared at him in disbelief. “You’re a week old, and you’re running around all on your own? Where’s your sire?”

“That’s already three questions,” Bucky said dryly.

So, he was a baby, _and_ a brat. Steve started to wonder what he just dragged into his house. “Where’s your sire, Bucky?”

Bucky looked at his hands at this, the corners of his mouth pinched down. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Steve drawled out, and it made Bucky raise his shoulders to his ears. “Because you left them?”

“No,” Bucky replied with a tad bit of abrasiveness. He looked up, and the same fire from before was lit inside his eyes again. “Because I don’t have one. When I woke up, I was already like _this_ in the back alley of some Walmart. I ran before anyone saw me.”

What the _fuck_.

Steve took a long look at him; how was it he didn’t realise how sickly this kid looked? His cheeks were nearly sunken, there were bruises under his eyes. It looked as if he hadn’t been fed for the whole week he was alone, and he looked like he would topple if someone decided to poke a pinky at his way.

How the fuck could someone leave Bucky the moment they turned him? Steve had lived in this world knowing that vampires who made someone into their fledglings would have to _always_ take them in so that the sires could guide them through the new world they were made into. They should be under their sire’s care for a few years before they could go out on their own — it would be for their own safety, and to respect other vampire’s boundaries by not bulldozing their way around.

Some irresponsible vampire thought, “You know what? I will cause problems onto others” and just went ahead and turned Bucky into one of them. As if there weren’t any problems that came with being one of their kind already.

Now, Bucky was here, admitting to a stranger he didn’t have a sire, while Steve was trying to calm himself down and not wring some nonexistent person’s neck for being an inconsiderate asshole.

Steve wiped a hand over his face. “Alright, you don’t have a sire. We can deal with that later.”

“How? Do you have like some,” Bucky thinned his mouth. “Community? To discuss it?”

“You were gonna say coven, weren’t you?”

Pink tinged Bucky’s cheeks, making Steve smile when the kid turned away. Bucky cleared his throat. “I mean, don’t you?”

“If you’re gonna start believing whatever Hollywood is saying about us, I suggest you scrap it all out and throw them into the bin.” Steve watched in amusement when Bucky flushed harder. “No, we don’t have a coven. We just live like we are, like everyone else is.”

“Oh,” Bucky cleared his throat again, fingers tapping against his knee. “So, what now?”

Now, for the trick question. “Have you been feeding yourself?”

Bucky snapped his head up to look at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“This whole week, did you manage to get some blood in you?” Steve softened his expression. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”

“I—“ Bucky gripped his knees. “I had some rabbit. And someone’s dog. But, I couldn’t help myself,” he added quickly, silently pleading with Steve. “I was so fucking hungry, and I couldn’t bring myself to start with—“ He clenched his jaw. “With _people_.”

“Alright,” Steve soothed, and God, this _kid_. He heard stories of vampires going through the same abandonment. Even if he was lucky enough to not experience it himself, that didn’t mean it was any less painful for the vampires who did. “Would you like to feed now?”

Bucky jumped to his feet, backing away. “Do you have someone here?” He hissed out, horrified. But, there was no mistaking how his irises swallowed the blues of his eyes. Clearly, he was interested, despite his reaction, and he was damn well starving.

“No, no,” Steve assured him, hands held up in assurance. “I have blood banks for that. But, you need something fresh. It’d be good for you to control yourself in the future if you encountered some humans who, say, were bleeding themselves to death in the middle of the highway.”

Bucky grimaced at that, but he didn’t relax any less. “And what do you suggest?”

“You’ll feed from me,” Steve said simply.

He did it before, a long time ago, to help another vampire who was as desperate as Bucky was, even if he refused to show it outrightly. Steve remembered it being a wet, cold day, the rain unforgiving when he found the half-turned vampire wheezing for his life in the barn he then owned. The man had claw gashes across his chest, his white tunic viciously red from his own blood, and he was begging for help without words.

It was a miracle he was even alive at all. When you turn someone into a vampire, it has to be done in one shot. There was no half-turning someone into a vampire; the man was lucky Steve found him before he died.

Steve let the man feed from him, and the man was able to sleep soundly that night while the claw marks healed on their own. 

Sam was eternally grateful to him, even if Steve told him it was _fine_ , anyone could have done it, Sam, _really._

Bucky licked his lips. “You’ve done it before?” 

“I have. It’s similar to normal feeding, don’t worry.” Steve leaned back against the sofa cushions, making himself comfortable. He patted his lap. “Come on, it’ll be okay.”

“How would you know?” Bucky asked with some accusation, staying where he was.

“Because I trust myself more than I trust you,” Steve held up a hand, letting the nail of his index finger grow longer and sharper. “If anything bad happens, I’ll stop it.”

When he used that finger to cut a line across the side of his neck, blood burst out of the wound, its metallic smell stinging and high around the living room.

It made Bucky gasp, stumbling forward before he caught himself at the back of the sofa. He was heaving out his breaths through his nose, mouth shut closed to prevent the smell of blood touching the back of his throat. It was painfully tantalising. It was killing him. Steve remembered how that felt when the overwhelming need to sink his teeth into flesh reared its ugly head.

Steve felt the skin on his neck knitting close as he watched Bucky’s fangs grow out of his control, his body consumed by the raw want to eat the moment blood was shoved directly into his face. Bucky let the tip of his fingers flitter over them in muted horror. “I’m guessing they hurt like a bitch,” Steve queried, because yeah, they ache as if they were going to fall off his gums. “You need to feed. That’s why I’m here.”

“I don’t—“ Bucky gasped, before shutting his mouth close. A whimper escaped through his pursed mouth, his fangs cutting through his bottom lip that some blood escaped.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Steve told him gently. But, Bucky was shaking his head, clutching onto the sofa as if his life depended on it. “Bucky,” Steve said again. “You won’t.”

“Promise me that you’d stop me,” Bucky rushed out through gritted teeth, and Steve was able to see how red his eyes had gotten. “The moment I take too much.”

Steve nodded. “I promise.”

And like that, Bucky was already by his side, falling to his knees as if he couldn’t hold himself up any longer.

Steve shot out his hand and grabbed onto his arm, hauling him up and onto his lap that Bucky merely let himself slump against Steve, his legs folded on either sides of him. Bucky groaned, grounding his forehead into Steve’s shoulder when his nails dug into the furniture they sat on, caging Steve in. 

Steve sincerely hoped there were merely dents and not punctured holes in his single-seater, but he pushed that away with the sweep of his hand down Bucky’s back. 

“You’ll be alright,” Steve murmured, running his palm up the curve of his spine. “I know you’re hungry, it’s why I’m here.”

Bucky huffed out a breath, cold and alive, as he rubbed his face against the skin above the collar of Steve’s shirt. 

Steve buried his hand into his hair, guiding Bucky properly so that his mouth was directly on his neck. Bucky pressed his mouth there while Steve used his other hand to rub his side in comfort. “There you go, right there. You’re going to drink what you only need from me,” Steve reminded him. “Any more and you’ll get yourself sick, because I’m not a human. I’m not part of your usual dietary needs. Understand?”

Bucky was letting his mouth drag around his neck lazily, not hearing a word, and Steve had to cup his jaw and tilt his head up to make him look at him.

The baby smell that came off Bucky heightened since he got into the hungry craze, and Steve waited for those blood-stained eyes to focus on him with a blink. When Bucky seemed to realise he wasn’t smelling Steve’s neck, he whined, writhing to get close to his new safe spot again.

Steve only tightened his hold. “Bucky,” he called out in a low voice, but it held the firmness that had Bucky flicker his gaze at him. “I will pull you off if you take more. You hear?”

Bucky audibly swallowed, nodding in his palm.

Steve released a small breath. “God, honey, who the hell abandoned you?”

Steve let go of his jaw, and Bucky shoved his face into his neck again, his hands now holding onto the shoulders under him.

“It’s okay to do it now,” Steve soothed, feeling the prickle of fangs travelling up and down his skin impatiently. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to his neck, the plush of that mouth as soft as the flutter of a moth’s wings, and that was the only warning Steve had before fangs sank into his flesh.

Steve hissed out through his teeth, but settled down when the uncomfortable feeling of being bitten lessened; he could only feel the weight of this fledgling on his lap and the way blood came rushing out to feed him, and Bucky sighed in relief the moment the taste of it burst inside his mouth.

Steve let his fingers dance up his back before burying them in the mass of dark hair. It was soft, thick when he dragged his fingers across his skull. It made Bucky moan, something needy and desperate as he relished on the touches, his hips swiveling swallowly against him.

Steve froze, and he was glad Bucky didn’t realise the way his brain screeched into a halt when Steve felt his tented jeans rubbing against his front.

Oh, Jesus on a tricycle, the kid popped a boner on him.

Steve locked his jaw, because it wasn’t like the kid wasn’t gorgeous. Bucky had sharp features with eyes that could rival any Alps, and his lips were pink and full enough to sink in deep, and Steve thought no one would ever want to come out from them. And now, he was horny from feeding from Steve, because to any fledgling, their senses were heightened in every aspect than any other vampire, and it would take a while for them to get used to it.

Bucky was damn well enjoying what he was doing and he made no effort in hiding it, in the state he was in.

It seemed as if _this_ was part of the ‘getting used to it’ process. Steve was reaping what he fucking sowed.

Because his dick had sprang up in interest from how Bucky was humping against him. Because Steve had been a lonely man for the past few decades, and his fucking body decided to toll its bell on who it wants to fuck. If he endorsed this —not that he would, they only just met, for Christ’s sake— there would be a whole lot of regret and resentment later.

Steve slapped a hand over Bucky’s hip and made him stay still, his other hand still tangled in his hair. “Bucky,” he breathed out. “You’ve had enough.”

But, Bucky wasn’t listening. He kept on taking, and taking, his hands now groping Steve’s chest.

Steve tightened his grip on Bucky and mentally prepared himself. He gritted his teeth, and yanked the fledgling off his neck that a spurt of blood shot out and made a mess between them.

Bucky frowned at him in confusion, head tilted back in the grip Steve had on him. Steve’s blood was running down his chin and his neck that a large stain was beginning to form on Bucky’s sweater. Steve winced as his skin healed itself, and he was tempted to scratch the itch that came with it.

“Forgot how messy first-timers can be,” Steve uttered under his breath, watching the way Bucky licked the excess blood from his lips. Steve smoothed down a palm over Bucky’s nape before he wiped a thumb at the corner of his mouth. “You alright there, honey?”

Clearly drowsy from the feeling of a real meal in days, Bucky blinked lazily back at him. “Yeah,” he managed to slur out. “M’great.”

Steve chuckled. “Glad to hear that.” He sucked the blood from his thumb, snapping Bucky’s attention towards it. “Think you can get up?”

Bucky didn’t look away from his mouth. “Uh, yeah?”

“Then, up you go.”

Steve slowly guided him back to his feet with his hands on his arm and hip. Bucky staggered to a stand, trying to firmly plant both feet on the ground without toppling upside down. He managed just fine, relief sighed out of his mouth.

That was when he noticed his own boner, scrambling to turn away from Steve that he gave Bucky the space to be mortified alone when he pretended to not see. Besides, his own dick was a culprit of its own, and Steve power-walked to his bedroom to make sure Bucky didn’t notice what Steve was going to painstakingly remember for the next of his life. “I’ll be getting you some clean clothes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky squeaked out, but Steve had already closed the door behind him, leaning against it to pull himself together.

“What the fuck,” he growled to himself, glaring down at his tented jeans. Steve took a deep breath.

Think of something gross. Stinky cockroaches eating mouldy bread. That herb sauce plastered on that old pastor’s skewed hair in 1876. The decomposing fox he found in the ceiling of his old home fifty years after he left it.

It worked, and his dick calmed down enough for Steve to pull off his dirty t-shirt and threw it into the hamper. He went to the bathroom and splashed some water on his neck, tilting himself over the sink to prevent making a mess of the floor.

Steve ran a finger across where Bucky bit him. The puncture holes were already non-existent. Steve knew that his blood would at least fill Bucky up for another week before he needed to feed again. He was a growing vampire, after all. He needed all the substance he could get for the next month before his feeding cycles were stable. Then, it was once every month or so.

Whether Bucky was to feed from him, or someone else, Steve didn’t know just yet.

Steve dried himself up and walked to the drawers to pull out a shirt for himself. He picked some clothes that he thought would fit Bucky enough, considering the kid was smaller than him. Steve hoped for the best and snapped it shut again.

When he got back out to the living room, Bucky wasn’t there but at the kitchen, bending over the sink to scrub off whatever blood he had on him with vigorous prejudice.

Steve tried not to stare at his ass, and managed barely when Bucky jumped a foot in the air the moment Steve stepped into the space, cursing under his breath. “ _Fucking sonava—“_

“I got you these,” Steve held up the clothes in his arms. “I figured you need them after…” he trailed off, nodding at his ruined sweater.

“Oh,” Bucky quickly wiped dripping water from his chin with the back of his hand, making his way to him. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Steve said, allowing Bucky to take them from him. Steve gave another assessing look at him. “You alright now?”

Bucky was careful to make sure the clothes weren’t pressed against his stained sweater. At least, he didn’t look as tired as he was in the beginning. Some colour was present in his cheeks, and his eyes didn’t look too antsy as they initially were. 

Bucky rubbed his fingers against the shirt. “I guess.” He rolled his lips together. “What now?”

Steve ran a hand over his hair. “You need to learn some things, if you wanna survive. But, your sire’s doing fuck knows what, so your chances are a bit harder than it should.”

“That’s absolutely fucktangular,” Bucky grumbled, swiping a thumb at his nose. “I guess I should be going, then. I can't promise I’ll give back your clothes, though.” He jabbed a thumb at the bathroom. “Is it okay if I go ahead and change?”

“Sure.” 

His mind raced for anything as Steve watched Bucky disappear behind the door. Because, while there was no harm in self-learning your way through the wilderness of a new world, some pointers wouldn’t hurt. Especially, if it concerns your life.

He worried on his lip. Well. There _was_ something Steve could offer but he wasn’t sure how well Bucky was going to take it in good faith.

Only way to find out, though.

Steve followed where Bucky went and used his side to prop his weight against the bathroom door frame, arms folded against his chest. “You know,” he called out loud enough for Bucky to hear from the other side. “You could always stay here.”

There was a snort. “Oh, yeah?”

“I can teach you,” Steve added, ignoring how condescending the response was. “How to hunt properly. When to take and when to stop. You know, basic necessities a vampire has to go through the day.”

“And night.”

Steve smiled at his shoes. “We can walk under the sun.”

The door swung open, and wearing Steve’s old t-shirt was one fledgling who still held suspicions in his eye despite feeding from Steve. And humping on him. Steve pushed the latter thought away as far as his mental state allowed him.

Bucky crossed his own arms. “We can walk under the sun?”

“We’re not gonna burst into flames and turn into ash, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Steve said mildly, straightening himself up. “The sun makes us have really intense sunburn, though. S’why we wear sunscreen.”

“ _Vampires_ wear sunscreen?”

“Pal, you don’t even know what else vampires do.”

Bucky let his eyes flit around his face, as if he was searching for something. “What if I say I don’t need your help?”

Steve shrugged. “Well, that’s entirely up to you. You can leave, if you want. I’m not gonna stop you.”

“And where would I be, if I really did?”

Steve looked at him properly. “Wherever you want.”

That didn’t seem the answer Bucky wanted. He sighed heavily, still at war with his own self that Steve decided to take pity on him. “You don’t have to decide now,” Steve mentioned noncommittally. “You can rest here for the night, if you want. And whatever happens later is up to you.”

“No, no, don’t do that. I’m thinking.” Bucky rubbed his temple with the heel of his palm in irritation. Then, determination hardened on his jaw. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing at this point, and I don’t have anyone who would show me on how to walk around without having some sort of neon sign above my head that says, ‘Hey, I’m a vampire. Will you give me your blood?’”

Steve smirked. “I guess.”

“No, you _know_.” Bucky slashed a glare at him, and Steve shrugged again. “Whatever. The thing is, I need help. And,” Bucky licked his dry lips. “You’re the only one of them— one of _us_ , to help me, ever since I fucked off from that alley. And I’m hoping that you’d, uh, show me how this works? I promise I’ll leave and be outta your hair the moment you think I’m worthy, or whatever.”

It looked as if the kid swallowed a whole lemon from how hard he was cringing at himself. Steve tried not to let his amusement show too much when he watched Bucky fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt by tucking it into his jeans. 

And then, he was untucking it again when Steve let the silence dwell a little longer.

It looked as if ants were marching on his nape from how Bucky was shifting in place, the contorting on his face getting worse. “Say something, man.”

Steve cocked his head to the side.

* * *

As it turned out, Steve missed having a roommate.

It was absurd, especially when Sam and Natasha had offered, time and time again, to stay with them in the very lavish studio apartment they shared instead of being alone in his current apartment.

Steve was attached to his apartment. It wasn’t just that; the people in the building had been kind to him when they started to realise he hadn’t been aging in the last thirty years. The kid who grew and lived opposite him always greeted him whenever they crossed paths. The old couple gave him gifts sometimes. Steve would help them whenever he could in return.

He was attached. He should probably leave again soon, but for the last thirty years he had been content, and he planned to ignore the hassle of moving places for as long as he could. 

Bucky was staying in the extra room after Steve managed to put on the bedsheets and take out the pillows from the wardrobe. It was almost dawn when Steve gave him a pair of sweats for Bucky to change into before the kid landed face first into the mattress and was out like a light a second later.

Steve didn’t know what he went through, what difficulties he had to face before Bucky decided to stalk Steve into his own home. Steve only let him sleep, closing the door behind him so that Bucky could get his optimal rest.

It was the next day, where the evening sun was still looming over them that Bucky groggily walked out of the spare bedroom with his hair sticking out all over the place, a splatter of toothpaste on the front of his shirt. Steve was cooking some pasta, lifting his head to greet him with a smile.

“Hey. You sleep okay?”

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” Bucky mumbled, letting his chin drop onto his folded arms. He watched Steve through barely opened eyes. “Is this lesson one?”

“What is?”

“That we can eat normal food?” 

“Oh, absolutely. So, lesson one,” Steve added some basil leaves into his bolognese. “We can definitely eat like we used to.”

“Hmm.” Bucky rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. “That’s a relief, I guess. I don’t think I can go cold turkey on garlic bread.” He paused. “ _Can_ we eat garlic?”

“We can. We won’t get poisoned _but,_ ” Steve held up the spatula to swipe a finger across the spoon. He tasted the salt in it. Very nice. “With moderation.”

Bucky made a face at him. “You mean eating garlic bread comes with _restrictions?_ ”

Steve squinted his eyes at him. “What’s your garlic bread restriction?”

“Fifteen slices, easily.”

“In one go?”

“Yeah.”

“You eat half of your normal portion,” Steve began, switching off the stove. “And you’d go as red as this spaghetti sauce. And you won’t stop scratching.”

“You’re saying I’ll get allergies. On garlic bread.”

“Some of us even get those eczema bubbles if we eat one slice. Depends on the person, really.”

Bucky pointed a finger at him in excitement. “What’s to say I _won’t_ get allergies when I eat fifteen slices of garlic bread?”

Steve gave him a bored look. “Bucky. Pal. Listen, you will get allergies on garlic bread. Don’t argue with me on this.”

“But, you don’t know.”

“I’ve lived on this planet longer than you were born, and I’ve met enough vampires who tried garlic bread. All of them have various results the moment they start pushing it. And those results were _ugly_.”

“I cannot believe you’re using your senior citizen card on me again.” Bucky pushed himself up and helped himself to a mug of coffee, while Steve set the bowls of spaghetti and bolognese sauce on the table.“Hey, how old are you?”

Steve put his hand on his chest in mock indignation, making sure to bug his eyes out comically. “Do you know how rude it is to ask a girl about her age?”

“ _Pbftt_.” 

Bucky just blew out a raspberry. The gall of this kid.

Bucky turned around and leaned against the counter to face him, his mug of hot coffee in hand. He flapped his hand at him, asking Steve to continue. “So…?”

“Guess.” Steve took out plates and cutleries from their required cabinet and drawer.

“A hundred?”

“Nope.”

“Two hundred?”

“Higher.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. “Three hundred and fifty.”

“Five hundred and forty eight.” God, saying it outloud made Steve sound so old. The weight he was carrying on his shoulders started to feel heavier. Whatever, he still looked thirty, and that was what mattered. “Give or take.”

Bucky whistled slowly, settling down on one of the chairs. “So, you went through the Titanic incident?”

“The Titanic was in the middle of the sea,” Steve scooped a hefty portion of spaghetti onto his plate. “I was somewhere in France doing some art stuff that took out most of my hours that I passed out through the whole incident. I woke up to the papers saying the ship sank and they found survivors.”

Bucky stared wide eyed at him. “Does that mean you went through the French Revolution, too?”

“Yeah, nope. I was in Ireland that time getting drunk out of my mind because of,” Steve stopped himself, side eyeing Bucky, who arched an eyebrow at him in inquiry. “Something. I don’t remember that, either.”

“That one sounds like a lie,” Bucky accused him, and Steve rolled his eyes as a show. 

“Sometimes you get your memories mixed up, and then you try to remember which part of the century you were in when you found something nice and tried to find it again. Only to realise you were two centuries too late.”

“That sucks,” Bucky commented, stuffing some food into his mouth.

Steve sighed, remembering the specific type of silk shirt he wanted to get because the old one had disintegrated in his hands. But, he got that in the 1700s. He realised too late about the condition of his shirt until the late 1800s. “It is.”

* * *

“Is it true that we can’t wear silver?” 

“I mean,” Steve was slathering some sunscreen onto the last spot of his leg, Bucky beside him with his own bottle of sunscreen. There was a frown on his face as he watched Steve slap another large dollop of it on his other leg. “Sure. It’s why we hardly wear jewellery.”

“So, if someone with a silver cross suddenly whipped their head back and forth and slammed the cross into my face,” Bucky drawled out, judgement a heavy thing in his tone as he directed his gaze at the bottle in his hand. “I’d get a T-shaped burn on me?”

“That’s basically it.”

“Do we heal from it?”

“Yeah, since we’re pretty fast healers.”

Steve stood up, squeezing some of the sunscreen on his palm and turned towards the mirror hanging beside the door. “You know,” Bucky began, unimpressed. “If you add some more, I’m sure the nearest water theme park would finally accept you as their slippery slide.”

“Ha. Funny.” Steve dabbed some onto his nose. “See if you’re laughing when you can’t even lie down later.”

Bucky stared at him through their reflections in disbelief. “How are you doing this every time you wanna go out in the morning?”

“For protection.” Steve straightened himself up, nodding in satisfaction before he turned towards Bucky. “It’s worth the fuss.”

“I’ll say.” Bucky replied airily.

“You’ll thank me later when you’re not complaining and moaning from pain,” Steve arched his eyebrows at the sunscreen bottle in Bucky’s hand. “Wear that. And then, we’ll leave.”

“I don’t complain,” Bucky muttered, but did as he was told as he squeezed the cream onto his hand.

* * *

“Hey, you have a package.”

Steve looked up from toeing his boots off, confusion apparent in the lines between his brows. “I didn’t order anything.”

Bucky shrugged from where he was perched on the back of the sofa, shoving a spoonful of peanut butter into his mouth. “Do you know how glad I am that I can eat food like I used to? I don’t think I can let go some of the things I like eating.”

“Bucky? The package?”

“On your bed. I mean, think of it this way. Letting go of this baby?” Bucky held up the jar as Steve went to his room. “Not a chance.”

The moment Steve opened his bedroom door, he stopped. The package was on his bed, only it wasn’t in a box like he thought it would.

It was a teddy bear that could have stood to his waist if it was on the floor, a large baby blue ribbon slung across its chest, as if it just won a beauty pageant. It had brown fur, black beady eyes, and a pink nose. It was adorable, and he would have appreciated it more if Steve wasn’t busy staring at what the ribbon said.

 _Congratulations, it’s a boy!_ cheered in sparkling white cursive letters.

“Jesus,” Steve muttered, and hadn’t realised Bucky was inside the room until he stood beside him, spoon left in the peanut butter jar he was holding onto.

“I’m guessing your friends sent you this,” Bucky deduced. “Only they would be those kinds of assholes.” He glanced at Steve from the corner of his eye. “You told them about me?”

Steve let out a breath through his nose, and went forward to sit beside the giant stuffed bear. He tugged off his socks. “Yeah. Figured if they were gonna visit me some time, and I wasn’t here, they wouldn’t tear you apart the moment they realise someone they didn’t recognise was in my space.”

Bucky blinked, before redirecting his gaze at the bear again. “There’s no negotiating with them, huh?”

“Eh, they can be reasonable at most times,” Steve followed his stare, reaching over to touch the bear. “Wow, that’s actually really soft.”

Bucky seemed to latch onto his previous sentence. “At _most_ times?”

Steve met his carefully empty look. “I’m not gonna let them kill you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“The welcoming gift cemented that,” Bucky said dully, waving a hand towards the bear. 

Steve rearranged his posture. “They’re not gonna hurt you. I trust them with my life, and I know they’re not like that.” 

“I’m sure you do, but I don’t know them,” Bucky let his eyes rove around the room briefly, as if he was looking for evidence for his statement, before they settled back on Steve. “I’ll be the judge on who I can trust.”

Steve watched how Bucky stuffed another spoon of peanut butter into his mouth. “Do you trust me, though?” 

Bucky didn’t answer at once, sucking the spread clean as he stared at the bear. Steve couldn’t bring himself to look away from how his lips were wrapped around the spoon.

He snapped his eyes up at the same time Bucky looked back at him. 

Bucky brought the spoon out of his mouth, still contemplative when he licked the peanut butter spread off his lips. “You’re letting me stay here, in your place. I’d look pretty stupid if I don’t.”

Steve stared back at him. “I’m not gonna cry over it, you know. If you don’t trust me.”

Bucky let the spoon drop into the jar. “Then, we’ll see.”

* * *

Before Steve could step into his apartment that night, he was slapped with the intense cloud of garlic that greeted his return.

He wrinkled his nose, following the smell to the kitchen, where several paper bags of garlic bread rolls were sprawled across the counter.

Sitting on the floor and scratching his neck, Bucky looked as if he was trying not to scream from how tight his rage was apparent. Steve dropped his keys in the decorative bowl, curiously watching how red his skin had travelled into his shirt. 

Hmm. Wonder how far that went.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted him, and Bucky shot him a glare. “Whatcha got there?”

“This is stupid.” Was the only thing he said.

Steve went to his fridge. “I did tell you.”

“ _Four_ ,” Bucky growled out, scratching his collarbones. “That’s all I got before I go monkey nuts. _Four_ garlic bread rolls. That’s not even half of what I usually eat.”

“I did say—“

“I _know_ what you said. But I was in this intense need for some garlic bread, and I couldn’t say no to myself.”

Ah, the curse of food cravings.

Steve took out the packet of blood from the back. He snipped at the corner with a sharpened nail and plucked a straw from one of the drawers. When he looked up to give Bucky the drink, he was staring at Steve as if he grew a second head.

When Bucky didn’t take the blood bag from him, Steve resolved to sit down on the floor beside him. “What?”

“You keep those around?” Bucky flitted his gaze between the blood bag and Steve. “How many of those do you have?”

“I told you I have a blood bank. And drinking this would let you heal faster.” Steve offered it to him. “And you’d stop scratching.”

Bucky still looked skeptical, his scratching now migrated behind his ear. “Where did you even get them?”

Steve sighed. “Does it really matter?”

Bucky didn’t know how to answer that; he started to look irritated from all the scratching and unfortunately, scratched harder. Temporary relief, if Steve said so himself. It was good, but it ain’t gonna work. “You tell me.”

“I can assure you it doesn’t matter where I got this bag of blood,” Steve grabbed his hand before Bucky could scratch himself anymore. “You’re bleeding. Stop that.”

Bucky wiggled in his hold. “It’s so fucking _itchy—_ “

“Drink this.” Steve handed the bag over to him. Bucky took a long look at it, one side of his mouth pulled down, before putting the straw between his lips.

When he drank, relief coursed through him that he closed his eyes. Bucky slumped back against the cabinet with a _thud_ , a soft sigh released through his nose.

The nail scratches on his skin healed swiftly, and the red blotches on his neck and chest were beginning to fade away. Bucky looked at peace then, enjoying his drink. Steve thought the euphoria of consuming blood would never go away.

Steve shook his head, but a smile climbed up his face. “Better?”

Bucky nodded, and the bag was already halfway gone. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Steve watched as Bucky licked the smeared blood from his lips, smacking them together. 

Steve glanced away; this was not the time to think about those things, Rogers, think of a topic to distract yourself with. _Now_. 

“What were you doing before you came here?”

You dumb ox, not that.

Bucky played with the edges of the bag, head bowed down. He was quiet long enough that Steve started to apologise, but then Bucky said, “I graduated. Engineering. Got good results. I was pretty excited about it since I jumped around small jobs first before going into college. I needed the money to pay them, after all.”

“And then, it was the day after some guy’s party. I was on my way back to my house when suddenly,” Bucky shrugged, still refusing to meet Steve’s eye. “Dumpster. I realised I got fangs. And walking in the morning made my eyes hurt so I tried to go back to my house. My family wasn’t there, and I didn’t want them to see me like this, so I grabbed whatever I could and left. Haven’t seen them since.”

It was awful and disorienting to wake up without knowing what was going on. And it was even worse when there was no one to tell him about it. Steve rested a hand on Bucky’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky patted Steve’s hand with his own, before letting it stay there. “I don’t think I can see them again, huh?”

Steve wanted to say that he could, if he wanted to. Maybe Bucky would just waltz over to where his parents lived and knocked on their door. Maybe he’d try to explain to them, make them understand. Maybe they would accept him the way he was.

That wouldn’t work, not when they just witnessed the news on TV on how the Barnes family already buried an empty casket six feet under. Not when Steve saw the look on Bucky’s face before he got up and left Steve alone to watch the rest of it while he locked himself up in his bedroom. 

Steve hadn’t brought up the subject since then. He figured he didn’t have the right when Bucky was still dealing with his grief. It had already been thirteen days since Bucky moved in, after all. Steve knew when boundaries were set.

Bucky had already finished off the rest of the blood, subconsciously playing with the empty bag. Steve knew he still needed to answer the question. 

“Not now, maybe,” Steve said, causing Bucky to look up. “You’re not ready to see them now, and that’s okay. They didn’t find your body when they did the funeral. You still have a chance, Buck. We can wait for a lil’ while.”

“How are they gonna take this? Of what I am?” Bucky gave a wry smile. “As far as they’re concerned, vampires are Twilight and Dracula. Not us.”

“Twilight,” Steve parroted with obvious distaste. Bucky’s smile turned genuine at that. “I don’t know why they even tried with that movie.”

“Movies. Multiple. They had five.”

Steve made a face. “That just says you wasted your money five times.”

Bucky chuckled, and Steve offered him a smile as he clasped a hand onto his shoulder and pulled him close into a side-hug. He was pleasantly surprised when Bucky tilted himself to him readily. “You’ll be alright, Bucky.”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed out through a puff of laughter. “Because, apparently, I have you now.”

Steve laughed, ducking down to bump his forehead to Bucky’s temple, who let out a bout of laughter of his own. “You got that right. I’m a saint, s’what I am. I’ll be here, if you’ll have me.”

“Sure,” Bucky grinned, eyes glittering.

* * *

It had been exactly two weeks since Steve let Bucky feed from him, and he was beginning to see the restlessness that shook around in the younger vampire.

It was admirable that Bucky lasted this long after his first round of feeding. But, it was obvious it was starting to get to him, because this was the fifth time Bucky had been pacing back and forth to the living room. Sometimes, he’d dropped into the kitchen without getting anything. Sometimes, it was his room. Steve only remained where he was seated at the dining table, the tablet under his fingers lit up to that day’s news.

Steve watched as Bucky opened the fridge for the second time and stared blankly at it. “Are you okay?”

“I think,” Bucky pursed his lips together at the content of the fridge. “It’s happening again.”

“What is?”

Bucky snapped his head up, and a blush crept on his cheek. Steve tried not to react the same way when the memory of that night came back at full force. 

“I—“ Bucky started, before slamming his mouth shut. Then, he shook his head. “Nevermind.”

Steve watched him close the fridge door and stalked out of the kitchen. Steve got up and followed him to the living room.

Bucky had sat down on the sofa, elbows to his knees, one foot tapping impatiently against the carpet.

Steve looked at him for a moment before he reached for his jacket. “Let’s go.”

Bucky’s insistent tapping was abruptly cut short, startled. “Go where?”

“I told you I was gonna teach you, right?” Steve smiled. “This is it.”

Both of them made their way towards one of the clubs Steve would go to whenever he was feeling lazy. Since this would be Bucky’s first hunt, he figured the kid should get something easy this time. And nothing was more easy than drunk people who were looking for a quick fuck with someone else.

The moment they stepped into the club, the music was loud and the lights were flashing all over the place. People were everywhere and on everyone; they were dancing, grinding their bodies together, seducing each other with a drag of their speech and a stumble in their step. People didn’t care where they were when they were having fun, and they didn’t care once they let themselves immerse in it.

Steve didn’t need to look around to know that they were already catching other people’s eye. Easy prey indeed.

They made their way towards the bar, ordering a couple of drinks as they settled on the stools. Bucky glanced at him in question. “You really come here just to drink? You don’t have fun?”

“I have fun,” Steve argued, taking a sip of his beer.

He wasn’t going to tell Bucky that was mostly what he would do. There would be a handjob at the back door, or someone would suck him off before Steve took what he wanted, but that was it. He didn’t dance around with somebody. Or talk with them for long hours. It wasn’t as if he got the chance, anyway. Sometimes, people saw him and immediately wanted to have sex with him. 

That was fun, when he felt like it. It was only _meh_ sometimes, that was all.

“Sure,” Bucky replied sardonically, looking around. “You wanna show me how it’s done or…?”

“Maybe. If I found someone. Or I’ll just talk you through it.”

“I don’t think that would be a problem,” Bucky replied dryly, nodding at one side. When Steve followed his gaze, there was a man standing with his group of friends. From where they were holding onto their own glasses of alcohol, it was obvious they were talking about Steve and Bucky, if the looks they kept shooting at them was any indication.

When the man caught Steve’s eye, he smiled.

“He wants to get all over you,” Bucky remarked, taking a sip of his beer. “Maybe, you should take him.”

Steve hummed. “If I take him, I’d just hunt for you. And we’re only doing this because you have to learn.”

Bucky looked surprised. “You’re not doing it, too?”

“I don’t feel like it,” Steve said simply. “Besides, the guy’s looking at both of us. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s thinking of a threesome right now.”

Bucky choked out in laughter. “You’ve done that before?”

Steve bared his teeth into a grin. “The feeding was great. The sex was even better.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Bucky wheezed, tilting his head back to take a huge gulp of his beer. “Alright, old man. I’ll take one for the team.”

Steve snorted. “Don’t insult me by making it sound like a damn chore.”

Bucky winked at him, and then he was out of his stool and strutting his way towards the man. Steve was shameless in watching his ass sway its way forward; the skinny jeans Bucky wore did _nothing_ to his imagination.

The man was surprised when Bucky talked to him first, and Steve saw how the man’s friends start to trickle away, a suggestive smile or two offered as a goodbye. Bucky said something witty that had the man laughing and rubbing his nape, while Bucky himself was outrightly flirting with him with a bat of his lashes.

The kid was _good_.

Steve watched them throughout the whole night before Bucky dragged the man to the dance floor. 

Look, Steve knew modern dances. He knew how it went from ballroom dancing, to tap dance, to swing, to some complicated moves, and to _this_. Whatever it was they were doing, it resembled nothing as a dance. The dark place was only lit with neon coloured lights and loud music, so no one cared when Bucky grinded his ass to the man’s crotch. No one cared when the man slid his hands under Bucky’s shirt and teased his chest.

While Steve didn’t care for all of that, he couldn’t deny how effective it was when he needed them to like him. It made his work much easier.

When the man started tugging Bucky off the dance floor, a hungry look in his eyes, Bucky shot Steve a smirk over his shoulder before he let himself be pulled away.

Steve licked his lips, slipping out of his stool with his bottle of beer in hand.

Showtime.

Steve had his gaze trained on them as they zipped their way through a throng of people, making sure they weren’t out of his sight. People tried to get his attention, but his focus had tunnelled on Bucky, on how he kept glancing at Steve to make sure he followed them. There was a good ten feet space between them, and they didn’t want to lose each other.

Bucky and the man disappeared through the back door that led to the alley.

Steve gave Bucky a head start, leaning against the wall as he counted to sixty. And then, he added another ten seconds to be safe.

The cool air slapped on his face when he pushed the door open.

Bucky had pinned the man to the bricked wall, kissing him hard and rough that the man moaned delightfully under what attention he was getting. He had both his hands on Bucky’s ass, squeezing those cheeks heartily while Bucky had his own hand buried inside the man’s pants, jerking him off in quick and efficient strokes.

Steve leaned against the opposite wall, crossing his arms. “Having fun?”

Bucky hummed, hand not stopping its endeavours. It had the man under him groan loudly. 

Steve clicked his tongue, eyes flickering to the closed door as he took a sip of beer. “He’s getting loud, Buck. Better get to it.”

“You’re probably right,” Bucky muttered against the man’s cheek. “But, you’re also ruining the fun.”

“I’m escalating the fun. You can have sex with them all you want once you know the proper way to feed on them.” Steve pushed back whatever annoyance that had ignited inside him when the suddenly man choked on his breath. Bucky probably strangled his dick. “Hypnotise him.”

“Who are you talking to?” The man suddenly slurred out, and Bucky was already shushing him.

“You’re hearing things, there’s no one here,” Bucky shot a dubious look at Steve. “I have to _what?_ ”

“Hypnotise him. Convince him it was someone else that was giving him a hand job in some dark alley instead of you.” Steve looked at the man. “In fact, you’re already doing it now.”

The man was already useless, his attention solely on Bucky the moment he said it was only the two of them in that alley. The man didn’t even realise that Steve was there, the judge to their performance, waiting for Bucky to start something.

Wait, no, that wasn’t right; Steve _wasn’t_ the judge, he wasn’t there to give out judgement. He was there to guide Bucky, to make sure he was doing things that wouldn’t bite him in the ass later. 

_Judge their performance_ , Jesus Christ, what the fuck was that? This wasn’t a competition.

Who were they going to compete against, anyway? _Steve?_ Get a fucking grip, Rogers.

“Huh,” Bucky mused, watching the man slump against the wall, who had his glassy eyes only on Bucky. “Would you look at that.”

Bucky leaned forward, letting his nose run down the length of the man’s neck, feeling the rush of blood underneath his skin. Steve kept an ear out for anyone that could barge in on them, moving his place to the door to install his weight against it. 

“Wanna score me by having a closer look?” Bucky muttered out. 

“Maybe,” Steve replied, and Bucky scoffed. At this angle, he could see the full view of Bucky’s hand in the guy’s pants instead of just watching his back. “When you feed, make sure he won’t get blue in the end. And lick the wounds up. We don’t want suspicions.”

Bucky pressed a kiss under the man’s jaw. “There are going to be scars, though?”

Steve shrugged. “We can’t help it that they don’t heal as fast as we do. But, it’ll stop the blood loss.”

Bucky hummed. 

It was a second, far too brief a moment for anyone to catch, but Steve saw how Bucky met his eyes over the man’s neck, a glint of red against his pale skin. There was almost a challenge in them, as if Bucky knew what he was thinking, as if he knew there was a storm thundering in Steve’s chest as he watched Bucky get all handsy with someone else.

Steve only stared back.

He didn’t want to look away when Bucky sank his fangs into his prey. 

The man gasped in surprise, struggling under Bucky’s vice grip when he tried to push him away. He hardly budged despite the desperate force of his clawing blunt fingers, not when Bucky made sure the man couldn’t have an escape when his hand clutched onto his thigh, a knee pressed to his abdomen in trapping him against the wall.

It wasn’t long before the man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, and just as Steve advised him, Bucky retracted his fangs when he had enough. He licked a stripe across the two teeth holes, and another. Bucky took out his hand and zipped up the man’s jeans.

Steve watched him carefully arrange the man on the ground so that it looked like he passed out from all the alcohol. “Well done.”

Bucky straightened up. There was blood smeared against his mouth and his chin, and Steve couldn’t help but notice how vibrant his lips had gotten from the colour. Plush that they were, when he was recently fed. He probably felt stronger now, from how bright the blues in his eyes were the moment all the red was drained out.

Steve stepped forward. Bucky didn’t move when he was directly in his space. Holding up his hand, Steve collected the blood at the corner of his mouth with a wipe of his thumb. “Still messy,” he murmured. “You gotta work on that.”

When Bucky grinned, his fangs were still out to play. “Why? You’re here to clean me up.”

God, blood always did make them horny. Steve blamed the adrenaline. “I’m not your nanny who picks up after your toys, pal,” Steve sucked the blood from his thumb. Bucky didn’t look away from the gesture. “You play with it, you take care of it.”

Bucky swiped his tongue over his mouth, sloppily cleaning himself up. Steve dug into his pockets to pull out some napkins, eyebrows raised.

“Make sure you bring some for the next few hunts.”

“God, you really do know everything,” Bucky jibed, taking one of the napkins from him to wipe the blood off his face.

Steve figured it was just muscle memory at that point. He put the beer bottle beside the unconscious man. There. Now he was a drunk man who drank himself to sleep. “I’m always too careful.”

* * *

Steve glared at the TV. “No. Nu-uh. Absolutely not.”

“Look, it’s not that good, even I can admit that,” Bucky had twisted to face him with an arm thrown over the back of the sofa, one leg folded underneath him. “But, think of it as picking a thorn outta your nail. It’s been there for a long time and once you watch these, it’s gone—“

“Sounds like you’re slamming the thorn in deeper with a hammer,” Steve grouched.

“—and nothing like taking out the biggest thorn by watching them in one go,” Bucky finished, ignoring him. 

“I’ve seen some clips of it,” Steve thought if looks could burn, his TV would have twin holes on the screen and resemble the two-way paintings those old mansions used to have. “And I like to think I don’t deserve to be tortured like this.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic.”

“After the second garlic bread fiasco, that’s rich, coming from you.”

Bucky spread his hands in front of him. “Maybe third time’s the charm.”

Steve pointed a finger at him in warning. “One, I’m not your pharmacy where you can drink from my blood bank til’ it dries up. Two, next time you’re scratching your pits, I’m leaving you to handle it on your own. Three, control your urges, Jesus Christ.”

“Not my fault all the rashes come out on my pits,” Bucky grumbled, changing movies. “Fine. Let’s watch something that’s gentle to your old senses. How ‘bout ‘Interview with the Vampire’?”

Steve watched as Bucky typed out the title on the search bar. “So long it’s not Twilight.”

“Oh, we’re gonna watch Twilight alright. _After_ this one.” 

“Buck—“

“You promised all vampire movies and shows.”

“I didn’t promise anything,” Steve retorted. “I have more respect for myself than this.”

“And nothing more self-respectful than watching your own kind be slandered with Hollywood touches of magic,” Bucky replied dryly. “C’mon. It’ll be fun. We’ll laugh at all the idiot things they come up with. It’s good for the soul.”

He had already turned the volume up as the movie started, the entry music bursting around the living room. Steve sighed, but settled down beside Bucky as they watched the first scene.

* * *

“This scene is the reason I gave up on the whole series.

“He’s like a bedazzled Ken doll.” 

~*~

“He’s 107 years old and he still goes to high school? That’s boring.”

“That, and look at how they’re just putting a banana on the table without a plate. Or a tray. We don’t even _know_ where that table went through.”

“He could’ve gone _anywhere_. He could’ve gone bungee jumping or something.”

“Have _you_ gone bungee jumping?”

“I have. Nat pulled me into it.”

~*~

“Oh, so, that guy’s a werewolf?”

“Yeah. There was a vote going on between Team Edward and Team Jacob, and they were going at it neck to neck. It was ruthless.”

“Who did you vote for?”

“That’s easy. Team Jacob.”

“Really?”

“Don’t give me that look. How was I supposed to know I’d get myself turned into a vampire in the future?”

~*~

“Is he— what the fuck is he doing to her?”

“Looks like he’s cutting her open with a scalpel.”

“Yeah, _he’s_ not a doctor?”

~*~

“ _Why_ is the baby so ugly.”

“I have no idea. I’ve seen the behind-the-scenes videos on YouTube, and the baby is already cute without all the CGI.”

“Imagine growing up and wanting to see baby you on TV and then have this goblin in your place. Poor girl.”

“ _Steve_.”

~*~

“Steve, you’re going to choke.”

“ _Hee—_ she said— _heeee—_ she _said_ —“

“Yeah. Yeah, I know what she said. Steve, for fuck’s sake, you look like you’re dying—“

“ _Loch ness monster_.”

~*~

“I’m going to need something strong for this,” Steve complained, pressing onto his temples when Bucky got up to pour them some brandy. “I can’t believe we watched through all five of those movies. We could’ve watched something else. Like Lord of the Rings.”

“That’s not a vampire movie,” Bucky argued, hands holding onto two glasses and a bottle as he sank back down on the sofa. “And like I said, big thorn now out.”

“Not worth it,” Steve grunted, taking the drink from him and swallowing it in one go. He slammed the glass back on the coffee table and poured some more. “What the fuck.”

“It’s not that bad.”

Steve shot him a look.

Bucky grinned. “Fine, it was that bad. But, think of it this way — you can say you hate the movies with all your heart because you’ve seen them personally. So, people can’t bullshit you into liking it when they try to make you watch it again.”

“People actually _liked_ those movies?” Steve was disgusted and awed at the kind of taste some people have. Have their senses been so severed to the point of numbness?

Bucky shrugged. “They got reviews, even if they were as low as the sewage.”

Steve took a swing of his brandy.

* * *

Steve eyed both of his friends at where they stood in front of him, recyclable bags in hand. “I’m surprised it took you this long.”

Natasha let the corners of her mouth pull up. “Our time doesn’t necessarily revolve around you, Rogers.”

“My non-existent love life begs to differ.”

“That’s another beast on its own, and we know how to rein it close,” Sam chuckled, pulling Steve into a hug. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know,” Steve chirped out in a disgustingly light voice as he let them in. “The usual. Living. Walking around. Waiting for the day someone puts a stake into my heart. Trying some luck with garlic bread again.”

Natasha and Sam shared a quick look as they opened the recyclable bags, pulling out the lasagna, a container of salad, and a bottle of red wine. “The kid’s been learning, huh?” Natasha asked easily, as if she hadn’t just outrightly shared her concerns with Sam right in front of him.

“Yeah,” Steve pulled out some plates and cutleries. “He’s doing okay.”

Then, the door to Bucky’s room opened, and Steve looked around to see Bucky walking out with his hair sticking out of his head as if he had just gotten off the bed. 

Bucky stopped in his tracks when he saw their new guests getting ready for dinner at the dining table. He gave them a swift look-down, his expression carefully blank while both Sam and Natasha stared back at him. 

Steve let them gauge in each other, taking a big bite on a piece of carrot after dipping it with ranch sauce. He didn’t know what Bucky was exactly thinking, other than to guess it was somewhere along the lines of _Ah, so they’re the ones who would’ve killed me if Steve couldn’t be bothered to tell them about me_.

“Bucky, is it?” Sam broke the silence with a polite smile.

Bucky let his gaze flicker between them for a second longer before stepping forward again. “Yeah. You’re Steve’s friends.”

Steve didn’t realise he was holding his breath until a puff of relief was released through his nose. He didn’t know why he was nervous to want Bucky to feel accepted by his friends. Somewhere, deep down, he really wanted them to get along with each other.

Natasha shot him an amused glance. “We are,” she answered, offering Bucky a smile with one corner of her mouth tilting up. “How’d you like the bear?”

“Steve thought it wasn’t funny,” Bucky swiped a celery and dug it into the ranch. He crunched down loudly on it. “But, of course, Steve’s just boring.”

“Of course,” Natasha replied gravely as Sam snickered.

Steve furrowed his brows. What the hell. How was this fair.

“I don’t need the three of you ganging up against me already.” He told them blandly, as all of them took their seats.

“We just might,” Sam promised, and Steve believed him.

It was later, when all the food had disappeared and the dishes were cleaned, they left the TV switched on in the background as they caught up with each other's lives. Sam and Natasha decided to repaint their place, maybe adopt another cat so that Liho could have a friend to play with. There were also stories that his friends were eager to tell Bucky, who soaked it all up to personally make fun of Steve and all the stupid things Sam and Natasha had unfortunately witnessed.

Steve didn’t mind much; he jabbed back at them, sure, telling some embarrassing moments of Sam and even Natasha the moment Steve sifted through the old memories he kept near his heart. There was some ruckus when he pulled out a couple of old photo albums, Sam vaulting across the living room to grab them out of Steve’s hands. But Steve ducked and scrambled to jump back beside Bucky, already opening to a page.

The memories that unfolded brought the fondness that came with it; Steve saw how Natasha let her fingers linger on a picture of the three of them together back in the late 1800s. Sam had laughed at an old sketch Steve did of him when he was snoozing in his old barn; his hat covered his eyes, and a straw was shoved between his lips.

Steve remembered that moment clearly — it was somewhere in the afternoon, and they had done their chores for the day and was just lazing around while Natasha had gotten her stallion out to town. Sam was on a bed of straw, taking a quick nap with the sun shining on his body, lighting up the whole place around him. Steve had taken out the folded paper from his pants pockets and plucked the pencil from behind his ear. Sam hadn’t moved the whole time Steve put some life on the paper until Natasha came back.

Bucky studied another photo of the three of them together, all dressed up for a formal photo, looking somber like old photos would. There was a thoughtful look etched on his face, thinking hard within the confines of his own mind while Natasha was explaining another old photo of them in England with their other friends.

Steve didn’t expect him to say what he said the moment Bucky opened his mouth.

“Did you guys sleep together?”

Sam choked on his wine, turning his head to the side to cough it out as Natasha had gotten stock still. Steve tried to not shift in place when Bucky aimed that curious but wickedly mischievous gaze at him, even if he wasn’t necessarily smiling.

Natasha had forced herself to move and rubbed Sam’s back in silent consolation, who was still coughing himself to his grave. 

“Well?” Bucky pressed, an eyebrow jumping up.

“We ain’t telling you that,” Sam managed to wheeze out.

“So, that’s a yes,” Bucky hummed, and Steve had a stone of dread sinking slowly to the bottom of his stomach when Bucky didn’t look away from him, something challenging glinting in his eyes. Then, he shrugged, turning to another page of the photo album. “I figured.”

Natasha aimed a blithe look at Steve, who only scratched his nape as he stood up with the empty bottle of wine in hand. “I’m just gonna chuck this out.”

“You do that,” Natasha told him breezily, before the green of her eyes sliced towards Bucky, who met her assessing gaze with a narrowed one of his own. She gave him a sharp smile. “You ever played tag, James?”

Steve froze, whipping around to level her with a warning glare.

Natasha only gave him a smile that was too sickeningly sweet that Steve was able to feel it oozing coldly down his spine.

Oh, fuck.

Bucky frowned. “Yeah, sure. When I was seven. Why?” 

His mission to throw out the bottle was pushed aside and Steve stepped back into the living room, hand held up to stop her. “Nat—“

“We still do,” Natasha told him, already standing up. She could probably see the tick on Steve’s jaw and tilted her head to the side. “I think you were it, Rogers.”

Sam was even grinning, following her lead that Steve cursed at how Sam was always a bit more lenient in going her way than he did with Steve. Steve couldn’t exactly blame him. “Yeah, Steve was definitely it. Too bad Clint’s not here with us.”

Bucky watched them cautiously. “You guys still play tag?”

“Extreme Tag, kid,” Sam rolled his shoulders, already warming up. “Definitely better than Normal Tag.”

Steve crossed his arms. He had already lost, he knew this when Sam jumped in. But, like hell he was going to back down. “We can’t just do that anymore.”

“Why not?” Natasha shrugged. “We haven’t done it in years, and I miss kicking your ass.”

“You just kicked my ass in Mario Kart a couple of months ago.”

“And what’s wrong with doing it again?” Natasha smirked. “You know you like running with us, Steve. So, what’s stopping you?”

“Advanced camera surveillance and how they’re literally everywhere now,” Steve replied dryly.

“No one will see us,” Sam assured him. “It’s in the middle of the night. Most of them are in their houses, sleeping in their little beds, and dreaming their good dreams. We’ll be fine, Steve.”

“Besides,” Natasha added, glancing at Bucky. “It’ll be a new thing to learn for the kid here.”

Bucky scowled at her. “Been telling you I’m not a kid.”

Steve locked his jaw, dragging his look towards where Bucky was seated on the sofa between Sam and Natasha. The photo album was still open under his hands, showing them pictures of when they were in 1908, wrapped with reasonable coats during a snowy day. But Bucky wasn’t focused on that, not when he had been invested in their conversation the moment Sam mentioned the sport, blue eyes drilling onto Steve with something pensive in them.

Something rolled in his stomach as he thought about it. Maybe, they were right. Maybe, it would be okay for them to run around in the middle of the night. Maybe, they wouldn’t get caught this time.

They almost did, one time. And that was when the satellites were less, cameras were just beginning to be made.

Steve rolled his lips together, sighing. “Fine.”

They grinned, already walking towards the front door while Bucky stood up to follow them, photo album left on the coffee table. “Wait, wait. How do we do this?”

“Simple, we run.” Natasha opened the door. She caught Steve’s eye over her shoulder, a smile climbing up her mouth. “Steve’s giving us a head start.”

Without another word, she and Sam already left, as swift and silent as the wind, and Bucky was left to gape at him in surprise.

Well, they didn’t waste any time. But, it didn’t matter, not when the excitement was contagious and Steve was feeling it running through his veins. Not when he knew he was able to catch them later, even if it was going to take a better hour of the night, and they’d laugh it off and do it again in the future.

Steve bared his teeth into a grin. “Run.”

Bucky blinked, before his own grin jumped onto his face. A heartbeat later, he was gone.

Steve let out a low laugh, rolling his neck and closing the front door behind him. 

He mentally counted to ten, locking the door and slipping the key into his jeans pocket.

It was always more fun when there were more people.

He closed his eyes, the last number uttered past his lips.

He could feel his senses reaching out the space around him; the pipes under the walls, the skitter of a spider somewhere above his head. A few people were still awake in the building, either watching TV or feeling each other’s skin in their bedrooms. There was a squeak of bedsprings, the clatter of a mug against the surface of the table.

When Steve opened his eyes, he moved without further thought. It was merely seconds before he was out of the building and running in the barely lit night. 

His friends were nowhere to be seen, but he could smell where they went, their scents several trails branched out around Brooklyn, overlapping on top of each other more than once. Steve took a deep breath, and the gentle sweet scent swamped in his nostrils, intermingling with the icy mint and fresh rain.

Steve chuckled under his breath, turning into an alley and jumping over a dumpster to follow where they went.

It wasn’t long before he caught up with them, pumping his legs faster when he saw their backs as they ran across the park. The trees swayed around them, the night stark quiet as the lamp lights guided their way through the massive clearing as their feet thundered across the ground. 

Not that they needed the lights. Not when they could see and smell and hear each other with such acuteness that only vampires would have the ability to possess.

Someone laughed, and Steve realised it was him, the beginnings of giddiness seeping into the thin membranes of his heart, causing Bucky to whip his head back with widened eyes. 

Bucky cursed, jumping over a bench before he increased his speed, over taking both Natasha and Sam that the two of them snapped their attention to him in surprise.

Steve didn’t stop, following them out of the park and in between buildings. They skid through roads, scaled up the bricked walls, and jumped from roof to roof before swinging down again in hopes to lose him on the way, in hopes to make things difficult for him.

Really, he was able to catch up, to do the things they had done as he went after them at full speed. But then, they had begun to split up, and Steve watched Bucky swing up the fire escape and continued working the rest of the chase on the roof.

Steve followed him up, leaving the other two to run ahead as he tried to make as little noise as possible when he passed by darkened windows. Steve grabbed hold of the edge of the building, hauling himself up with a grunt.

And there, on his way to jump onto another building, was Bucky.

Steve’s body moved before he realised what he was doing, avoiding what little obstacles in his path and hoping he wouldn’t slip on the wet floor and break his own fucking neck.

Because something sung bright under his skin when he was just a breath away from getting Bucky. Steve knew it had been there for a while, sitting tight at the back of his conscious when he had first vehemently pushed it away. And now, it bloomed under this chase, feeding it with his adrenaline, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop even if he wanted to.

He was almost there. Bucky was almost to him.

It took another one, two.

Three.

Bucky yelped when Steve wrapped his arms around him and yanked them both away from the edge of the building, tumbling onto the hard floor when the momentum had sling-shot so suddenly at the opposite way. 

It had Steve on top, caging him underneath him when his palms held himself up. His chest was heaving even if he didn’t need the air to breathe, looking down at where Bucky was doing the same thing.

Upon meeting his eye, Bucky laughed breathlessly, head slumped against the ground that Steve couldn’t help but mentally trace the length of his neck that presented itself to him. Pale skin shone under the full moon, unseen if it were any normal human, with its poor light. It was no problem to Steve, not when he was able to see the angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips. 

“You caught me,” It looked as if Bucky was biting back a smile. “I’m guessing I’m it now, huh?”

Steve forced himself to huff out a chuckle of his own, because something hard pressed against his chest, reaching towards Bucky with a spread of its fingers. 

Not now, fucking hell, not _ever_.

“That’s how it usually goes,” Steve stated, because he had to play the part somehow, or Bucky would just notice how he wanted to touch him under the kind glow of the moon. 

He paused, and Bucky was waiting for him, looking at Steve through his lashes, lips parted. It had Steve’s mind reeling from the sight of him, at how beautiful Bucky looked, and it shouldn’t make him think these things, not when Steve had only promised him the ways of how to live, on how to protect yourself.

Not this, whatever _this_ was.

“Yeah,” Steve almost croaked out, and he cleared his throat, rolling off Bucky and bounding into a stand. 

Bucky was quick to follow, mouth opening to say something, when Natasha and Sam had climbed their way on the roof they stood, and Steve made himself look at them while pushing down the ball rolling on his throat. 

Bucky’s gaze was almost penetrating against the side of his head. 

“That’s a good chase,” Sam said. Maybe, he felt something shifted in the air, from how the question grew on his face as he looked between them. Steve only stared back and hoped he didn't look like he had been putting his hand into the cookie jar.

Natasha noticed as well, if the searching look in the greens of her eyes said anything.

Bucky turned to Sam, shooting him a too wide smile. “I thought I’d be faster, if I’m honest.”

“Steve’s always gonna catch you if you’re not careful. I learned that the first time,” Natasha said, not lifting her gaze off Steve. He locked his jaw inconspicuously. That only made her smile twitch around the corners. “Now, see if he can even poke a finger five feet near me.”

“I’ll take that as a challenge for another day,” Steve promised, rolling his shoulders.

“That’s surprising, coming from you,” Natasha arched an eyebrow. “You’d think you’d want to take me down right here, right now. I recall prying you off other people to make sure you didn’t die from stupidity.”

“Harsh,” Steve deadpanned. “O’ ye of little faith, huh, Nat?”

Sam snorted. “You haven’t gone into a church since forever.”

“And I don’t plan on going again.” Steve ran his fingers through his hair. “Last time I did, the pastor decided I should take a bath with Holy Water.”

Bucky blinked. “I’m surprised you didn't die.”

Steve flapped his hand dismissively. “It did nothing to me except made me drenched.”

Bucky squinted at him. “So crosses burn us but holy water doesn’t make us shrivel up like a raisin? That’s fucking weird. Aren’t both things part of the religion that’s supposed to protect someone against the unholy monsters of the damned, or however that goes?”

“We think it’s the silver,” Sam shrugged, crossing his arms. “I don’t know, man. I just follow what Steve said on what not to touch and I’m fine.”

“It’s the silver,” Steve confirmed — the change of subject was making his internal turmoil flip flopping like a fish. He was just glad Sam and Natasha weren't looking at him as if they knew more than they should. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

It was half an hour later when they all went back to Steve’s apartment, and both Sam and Nat had to say goodbyes for now. They promised to come back with their own nostalgic keepsakes that they wanted to show Bucky some other time, some photos of their other friends that lived as long as they did. Steve walked them to the door, allowing the kiss Natasha planted on his cheek from where they had their arms wrapped around one another.

“Be good,” Nat murmured into his ear, giving him a knowing look when she leaned back. “If you need anything, you tell us.”

Steve smiled. “So you keep saying.”

“And I mean it every time.”

Sam stepped forward and pulled Steve into a hug of his own, and he couldn’t help but sink into the familiar embrace from where Sam had a hand on his nape. Steve didn’t know he needed his friends until they were here, even if they had seen each other just before Bucky came along.

Sam must have seen it on his face when they broke off. “Y’know, our offer still stands.”

Steve buried his hands into his pants pockets. “What about?”

“The same thing we’ve been bugging you to do.” The gentle smile on Sam’s handsome face squeezed Steve’s heart. “We haven’t changed our minds.”

“You’d have to stretch that offer,” Steve reminded him, Bucky’s presence a heated thing behind him. 

Sam let his gaze flicker around Steve. “We’re not changing our minds.”

Steve didn’t know why that was what exactly he wanted to hear, but it made his shoulders relax all the same. Sam noticed it, giving Steve one last pat on his bicep before he went and curled his arm around Natasha’s shoulders. “We’ll see you later, big man. Bye, Bucky.”

Bucky seemed surprised at the acknowledgement, straightening his posture from where he was leaning against the back of the sofa. “See you, Sam. Natasha.”

Nat gave him a mock salute, following Sam out of the apartment. Steve closed the door, and silence engulfed them once again.

They didn’t move from where they stood for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Bucky seemed to think the same thing as he did, because what came out of his mouth was something tentative. “What did he mean by the offer?”

Steve lifted his head to meet Bucky’s awaiting gaze. He was in his old hoodie from the first time Steve met him, now blood free after washing the stain off all those days ago. Bucky’s college signa was a big red thing on the front, something that took out most of his torso, now faded from how frequent he must’ve worn it all those years ago.

Steve was surprised at how much time had passed, where it had been slightly more than a month since Bucky had followed him back to his own home. How much had changed, how much things they had done together, including the time spent with his friends.

He blinked the sentiments away, focusing on the present. “They offered me to stay with them. It’s been going on for decades now, but I always turned them down.”

“Why?” Bucky asked, genuine curiosity in his eyes. “Isn’t that supposed to be better? Y’know, stronger in numbers and all?”

“Sure, if you wanna put it that way,” Steve curled his fingers into his palm from where they were still buried in his pockets. “We want to do different things in different places. They own a hotel in DC, and have been taking care of the place ever since we were staying there years ago. They wanted to stay somewhere near, I still wanted to move around.”

“We agreed we’d visit each other whenever we can,” Steve continued, and by then, he was leaning against the door, mimicking Bucky’s stance from where he wrapped an arm around his middle. “Sometimes, it’s at one of their hotels that’s branched out across the continent. Sometimes, I go over to their place. Sometimes, it’s here. In between that, I write to ‘em, or just text or call ‘em nowadays. And sometimes, they’d ask me to move in with them.”

“Have you thought about it,” Bucky asked. “About moving in with them?”

“Sometimes,” Steve looked around the room, familiar with the space he made for himself when he recognised all the little trinkets he left around here and there. “Maybe I should think about it more, considering I’ve been staying here for over thirty years and I still look the same as I was when I first moved in. The kid that stayed in front of me already grew up and only comes along with her family to visit her parents.”

Bucky kept quiet for a while, looking at the decorative bowl perched on the cabinet. “You said they protected you. The neighbours. Do they know?”

“About us?” Bucky nodded at his question. “They just know that I still look like the same punk that moved in that day when I’m supposed to look like a sixty-year-old man. But, I haven’t directly told them.” Steve smiled wryly. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, don’t mind me. I’m just a vampire looking for a home, and I’m not gonna drink your blood, promise. Cross my heart and hope to die’?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the back of the couch. “How _did_ they handle your eternal youth?”

“By closing one eye,” Steve watched Bucky crossing the threshold to make his way in front of him, stopping just enough for Steve to reach for him, if he wanted to. “There are suspicions, I think. The kids who used to live here are looking at me funny now.”

“Maybe they just wanted to jump on you,” Bucky mused dryly, causing Steve to let out a chuckle. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Like, ‘that man who lived across the hall? The one who looks like a fucking chad for the past thirty years? I've known him since I was in middle school, but I’d let him feel me up right now.’”

Steve cleared his throat, avoiding his eye to look at the ceiling.

“Oh my god,” Bucky raised his eyebrows. “You slept with one of them, didn’t you?”

“Well—“

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ ,” Bucky exclaimed through his laughter. “How old were they when you decided to give the daddy experience of their life?”

Steve shot him an incredulous look. “I’m sorry, _daddy_ experience?”

“Yeah, Steve, _daddy_ experience.” Bucky propped his hands onto his hips, shaking his head as if Steve was the thickest person he ever met. “Clearly, whoever this person was, finally got their wildest fantasies answered by sleeping with you. And I need names and ages.”

Steve choked out laughter of his own, his face heating up. How the hell did they even get here, goddammit. “Why are you insisting on this again?”

“So, I can send a flower bouquet to them with nothing but congratulations on a card.”

“They’re both married years ago!”

Bucky gaped at him. “ _Both?_ You gave _two_ of your neighbours the daddy experience?”

“Stop calling it the ‘daddy experience’, that’s not even—“ Steve couldn’t help the shake of his shoulders as he covered the wide smile that threatened to make an appearance with a hand. “Caitlin. Two floors up. She was your age. Michael. First floor, and he was a couple of years older than her.”

“Did you feed on them?”

Steve stayed quiet a second too long, because Bucky smirked. “Of course you did.”

“I met them at the club! We were dancing, they were drunk, and then they forgot they slept with me because I told them to forget.” Steve was just glad all of that happened in a motel room. And that everything wasn’t awkward for the next of their lives whenever they bumped into each other at the lift or the entrance.

Something shone in Bucky’s eyes. “Wait, wait, wait. You slept with both of them _together?_ ”

Oh, shit.

Bucky pointed at the frozen look on Steve’s face with a gleeful finger. “You _did._ Were they the great sex but better at the feeding?”

Steve wrapped his hand around the offending finger and shoved it down. “None of your business.”

“That’s exactly what Sam said when I wanted to know whether or not you guys slept together,” Bucky clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. “You’re all so obvious.”

“Because it really is none of your business,” Steve laughed out, tugging the finger he was still holding onto that had Bucky taking a subconscious step forward. “Look, we live for hundreds of years, and sometimes you do things some people don’t have the privilege of doing because they don’t have the time.”

“Hey, quick question,” Bucky wiggled the finger in Steve’s hold, but didn’t let go. “How is sleeping with multiple people a privilege? Because I’ve heard people do orgies in their very short lives and frankly, you’re not that special.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Steve hmphed playfully, pushing himself to his feet. Bucky didn’t move away, and this had them directly in each other’s space when Steve bumped into him.

It made him pause, taking in how Bucky was looking at him with something tender in his expression, a small smile playing on his lips, as if he knew just exactly what he was doing and he was being shameless about it. 

The room was heavy from the same air on that roof, before they were interrupted by Sam and Natasha. It was coming in a slow wave, the warm need taking over his insides that Steve is left to stare at the bright blues of his eyes and the way they crinkled at the corners. Just for you, they seemed to say. 

It made him drop his gaze to that tantalising mouth, pink and soft and Steve had a half mind to just touch them with his fingers, to have a small taste of what they would feel like against his own. 

Bucky knew this; Bucky was watching him thinking about it. Steve didn’t realise Bucky had manoeuvred his hold on him and laced their fingers loosely together, carving themselves a home between his. It made Steve flicker his gaze back to those eyes, at how they glinted wickedly from their place, loudly crowing at Steve’s inability to hide the want that he had blatantly broadcasted for all to see.

The silence rang in his ears, loud and nerve wrecking. Steve thought nothing would be as deafening as this. “Bucky?” 

He didn’t know what he did wrong, whether speaking had been a mistake, because it made Bucky take a step back.

Steve let him, something gaping and lost unraveling in his chest as he watched Bucky put some space between them, letting his hand go. Steve was about to say something, to apologise maybe, when he caught the look on his face.

Bucky wasn’t regretful, oh no. He certainly wasn’t despairing over it like Steve initially had, he currently was. Bucky was smiling, and there was some sort of promise on it that had Steve narrowed his eyes at him. “Bucky.”

The deadpanned had Bucky slipping for a moment, chuckling under his breath. “Steve.”

“What the hell was that?”

“You tell me,” Bucky let one corner of his mouth curl up, walking backwards right until he made his place back against the couch. “Were you thinking ‘bout me?”

Steve assessed him for a moment, trying to rightened back his tilted composure. “When you have a fledgling living in your home, you start to wonder what kind of mess you’d have to clean up after them, whether you like it or not.”

“So, you did,” Bucky hummed, studying him for a moment. He probably found what he was looking for, because he was back on his feet, walking towards his room without looking back. “Goodnight, Steve.”

* * *

The man had his eyes closed the moment Steve told him to sleep.

He made sure the man was slumped against the bricked wall, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be lurking near them as he arranged the man into The Pose; his I-just-drank-from-you-but-I-need-you-to-cover-my-ass pose. Steve might not have any beers to use them as props, but the man just happened to have a small bag of cocaine he hid in his pockets. Steve took it out, smeared some of it on the man’s nose, before he dusted himself off as he stood up.

There. Now the man just drugged himself to unconsciousness and Steve just had his fill of blood for the next couple of months or so.

Steve leaned forward and tugged on the man’s collar so that it covered the bite marks, thankful that the chilly weather had made people walk around in extra layers, enough to hide any evidence of him feeding from them.

He took a deep breath, the stinging cold air prickling his nostrils before Steve released it again. It was always so exhilarating after he fed. He could feel the blood rushing through his veins, hot and alive and velvet against the thin walls. Everything was far too enhanced, reaching out to him in all ways that even the scuttle of rats was loud to his ears. 

The need to run, to move, crowded against his nerves and lighted them up on fire. Steve flexed his fingers, the back of his skull prickling with the feeling of near overwhelment, and it travelled down his nape and spread across his back. 

Steve rolled his shoulders to get rid of some of the feeling, walking out of the alley with an eye around for trouble. He liked to think he should be less wary after these things, given how long he lived. A few hundred years, and you’d think you’d get used to the drunk taste of someone else’s blood.

He barely noticed himself running through the city, hoping that no one would see him zipping through nooks and crannies of the space around him and think him hostile. His body knew where it was going, despite it being a brimming vessel of over sensitivity mess that had triggered his brain into autopilot.

It felt only like seconds later before Steve found himself in front of his apartment door. There was something laboured in his breaths, just barely, and it took him a deep inhale when he tried to smoothen down the crackling lightning under his skin.

He jabbed his key into the lock and twisted it open. When the door swung open, the first thing he saw was Bucky.

Steve froze at the doorway at the same time Bucky turned around in surprise, his movie scrolling stopped abruptly with one hand holding onto the TV remote. Then, he greeted Steve with a smile. “Hey. How was tonight?”

It wasn’t as if Steve hadn't seen him in only a towel, fresh out of the shower with his damp hair flopping over his eyes. They shared a bathroom, and sometimes they’d cross paths when they’d make their way towards places they wanted to go. And if they had been checking each other out, Steve knew they couldn’t bring themselves to exactly point it out without revealing the action of it in the first place.

Tonight, he had lava slodging through his veins and wrapped around his bones. There was almost something lazy in how the feeling of need burrowed itself deep into him, cozy at the warmth. But its eyes — it was awake and its eyes were on what it wanted, and Steve felt almost helpless to stop it from ogling Bucky.

“Fine,” Steve answered easily, refusing to feel wrong-footed. He stepped inside his home and closed the door behind him. “Dull night. I was half-hoping I’d get someone stubborn and they’d try to punch my face again, or something.”

Bucky shot him an odd look, and Steve tried not to let his gaze linger on the drop of water hanging on the tip of his hair. “Someone trying to kill you while you drink from them is better than them not fighting at all?”

“The dude was in shock,” Steve said as explanation, and Christ, how was that an explanation? He hadn’t been blood drunk in front of someone for years and suddenly he couldn’t say a fucking thing. “It’s… not a challenge.”

“Sure,” Bucky offered, before he paused. “You’re… weird tonight. Should I be concerned?”

“It’s the blood,” Steve flapped his hand as a useless gesture to elaborate. “It makes some people go off their fucking socks. And I’m currently going through it. It’ll pass.”

“I forgot that happens,” Bucky mused, giving his full attention to Steve when he bodily faced him. Jesus Christ, the towel looked like it was hanging onto his hips for dear life. “You’re okay, though?”

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse,” Steve was beginning to think if he didn’t run to his bedroom and lock himself in soon, he’d do something that would have him experience a mental seizure in the future. “I’ll, uh, leave you to whatever it was you were doing.”

“I was trying to find a movie that I wanted you to watch with me, actually,” Bucky gestured towards the TV with a tilt of his head. “You seemed pretty off before you left. I thought something funny would cheer you up.”

Steve paused from where he was already taking a step away, surprise flooding him at the admission. He didn’t think Bucky would notice when Steve made sure he didn’t look like he was going to rip off his own hair that evening, staying clear of Bucky when Steve felt like he was going to pop from the pressure building around his ears. 

Steve didn’t think Bucky would take note of it, _and_ tried to do something nice for him. That was really sweet of him.

But, of course, Steve was ruining it with post-feeding jitters. Of course, he got too distracted by the mere existence of _Bucky_ that Steve had a sinking feeling he was going to ruin this nice gesture.

Instead, he quietly, defiantly, stomped on the thought and gave Bucky a smile. “Sure, I’d like that. Thanks, Buck.”

Bucky smiled back, and started walking around the sofa to make his way to his bedroom. “Lemme just change into some clothes before we get started.”

“We’re not watching any vampire movies I hope?” Steve questioned wryly. “Because I gotta be honest with you, Buck — I don’t know how much more of those I can take.”

“Nope,” Bucky laughed, passing by him. The smell of his peach scented soap slapped Steve’s nose so hard that it took some effort to not step back from shock. “I can’t handle those right now, too. They do get stupid at one p—“

Steve kept telling himself that fixing things, pronto, wouldn’t have someone hurting themselves. But, another thought argued that hey, he lived in that apartment for thirty years, he knew where was what; he knew the torn off carpet was there, he could’ve just swerved around it and not broken his own neck.

Another louder, angrier voice bellowed, _Jackass, Bucky doesn’t know!_ and _He’s going to fall to his fucking death!_

Steve didn’t know why he was breathing so hard until he blinked, resurfaced from whatever panic that clouded his vision. Something damp was pressed against his chest, solid and alive, and he looked down to see Bucky was clutching onto his arms with wide eyes.

The smell of the peach scented soap was much stronger right then, and it had Steve breathing in deeply. It was almost too hard to resist, not when he was still half out of his mind to remain as non-affected as possible.

It was rather hard now, when Steve was pressing Bucky to him, supposedly saving him from the doom of falling face first to the floor when Steve had seen Bucky throw himself off a four-story high building and went away without a scratch.

He was a fucking _vampire._ Like _Steve_ was. Tripping on Steve’s sad carpet shouldn’t even make him hurt.

Steve had one hand gripping Bucky’s bicep while the other pressed against the dip of his hip, fireworks crackling underneath his fingertips from where Steve was touching him. Embarrassment burst in his chest and climbed up his neck. Steve wanted to step back, but he couldn’t bring himself to budge when he was rooted into the floor with his arms around Bucky, as if Bucky was a damsel in distress.

 _Steve_ was the one who was in fucking distress. He was pretty sure he’d rather have someone break into his apartment and kill him then having to face that was his downfall.

“I,” he croaked out, immediately clearing his throat. Well, that was decidedly _awful._ “Sorry. I just— you were falling and I— sorry.”

Bucky opened his mouth, before snapping it close, seemingly at lost at what to say. Steve wanted to sink into the ground and broil in his misery. “Thanks. I’m fine— I wasn’t gonna—“

“Right,” Steve pushed out, because having Bucky admitting his error was just _worse_ and Steve was really contemplating on never seeing his face again for a few decades. “Right. Of course you wouldn’t. I’ve seen you jumping off buildings as if it’s fucking parkour for you. Why would I—“ 

He was getting hysterical. He probably should stop talking.

Steve grimaced, and to his horror, he dropped his face into Bucky’s shoulder without thinking of his mental well-being and the consequences that came with it. The sweet smell of Bucky’s soap was teasing the back of his throat, though. “Forget I said anything.”

There was a hand rubbing his back in consolation, suspiciously tinted with mockery, but it made Steve sink deeper into the smell of peach, into Bucky. It made all the worked out feelings wash away for a while, and Steve figured he rather liked staying in that position.

Something clicked at this, and it tasted disgustingly like revelation. 

The grip he had around Bucky’s waist tightened, the fingers on his bicep now dancing down his arm before cupping his elbow. Steve turned his head a bit, and without thinking, pressed his lips against the skin underneath him.

It made Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, the little ministrations of comfort stopping on Steve’s nape. 

Encouraged by his reaction, Steve pressed a deeper kiss onto his shoulder, tightening his hold onto Bucky’s elbow. Fire licked the insides of his chest, growing bigger and higher, and Steve couldn’t find himself to stop the way his fingers were brushing against the edge of the towel. 

“Steve,” Bucky murmured, his hold on Steve’s nape coming to life when he pressed his thumb against the edge of his jaw. It spurred Steve on, because Bucky wasn’t stopping him. He wasn’t protesting. Bucky’s touch was gasoline to his growing ember and Steve was only one man, after all.

There was no stopping at how Steve let his lips drag up the length of his neck, and felt how Bucky had tightened his grip onto the edge of his face. He pressed a kiss on his sideburn, felt how his hair tickled his nose.

Steve probably should have talked to Bucky about this first; he probably should have said he had been thinking about this for a while; he probably should have done this before Steve dipped his fingers past Bucky’s towel and grabbed his ass.

Bucky hissed from the touch of his cold hand, the leftover of his hunt still fresh and stinging. It made the towel loosen and fall between their feet, and that snapped Bucky out of the haze Steve had put them both into when he gripped Steve’s hair and yanked his face away from him.

Steve almost grinned at the blown out look in the blacks of his gaze. “ _Steve_ ,” Bucky tried to say sternly. “You’re blood drunk.”

Despite being in Bucky’s tense grip, Steve managed to give him a shrug. “Sure.”

Indignation flashed in those beautiful eyes, and Bucky looked like he was almost a second away from baring his teeth. “You’re _not—_ this _isn’t—_ “

“You’re trynna tell me that I’m not sober enough to do this,” Steve said, not even trying to make it into question. It had Bucky pursed his mouth together. “I gotta be honest with you, Buck. I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

With that, he squeezed Bucky’s ass just to make a point. It had Bucky stuttering out in surprise that he let go of Steve’s hair.

“ _Fuckin’_ —” Bucky breathed out, grabbing Steve’s shoulder for balance, and Steve stared at how his dick had twiched in interest.

Steve hummed, dragging his fingertips up the swell of his ass and in between the dips and dents of his back. “Seems like I’m not the only one.”

“You come back, mind gone and off to fucking la-la-land, didn’t fix this stupid carpet, and then you have your hands my ass like I’m your stress ball?” Bucky managed through gritted teeth, digging his nails into Steve’s arms.

“You’re talkin’ all high and mighty after that lil’ stunt you pulled that day,” Steve reminded him mildly, pressing his thumbs against his hips in warning. “‘Think you can flirt around with me like I’m one of your toys, huh kid? Y’think you can just zip in and out of this without thinking this through?”

“Fuck you,” Bucky spat, and there was fire in his eyes too, consuming and destroying. “Fuck you, and your ‘kid’. Just because you lived longer than a fucking dinosaur, you just don’t go around callin’ everyone else one.”

“Please don’t latch onto that when we have more pressing things to talk about,” Steve drawled, his lips already an inch hovering above Bucky’s ear, the swift movement entirely unexpected.

It had Bucky slamming his body against the nearest wall with an enraged arm digging into his throat — a choked out laughter tumbled past Steve’s lips, the pain from where he hit the back of his head had gone as swiftly as it came, because _damn_. 

He couldn’t help it — Steve met his penetrating fury with one mushy look of his own. Jesus Christ. He was so fucking blood drunk and so fucking turned on that he probably looked as insane as Bucky was implying. 

“You’re so damn pretty,” Steve hushed out, and in a span of half an hour that night, Bucky still managed to look so surprised. “‘Been thinking about it since you got here. I told myself I wouldn’t get myself involved with you, but then you did _whatever_ you did back then, and I just,” 

Steve couldn’t say more when he wanted to, because he hadn’t straightened himself to the required attention just yet up in the North, so he finished the sentence with a loose shrug that should’ve had him killed from the insensitivity.

“I know you won’t believe me,” Steve continued. “With how crazy I sound right now, being all blood drunk and I don’t blame you, honestly. You’re just so fucking attractive, and sweet, and—“

He didn’t know what the hell the man he fed from had in his blood for Steve to ramble all of his feelings out, but motherfucker sure had _something_. Probably the cocaine, or weed, or whatever putrid thing the man reeked of when Steve first caught him stumbling in the small tunnel.

Bucky probably got tired of it. Bucky probably wanted him to shut up, with how he slammed his mouth to Steve’s and stole all the words out of him. 

Steve shuddered in a breath. The arm Bucky had on his neck had snaked to the back, holding Steve tight and close, and Bucky had no qualms in stepping between his legs and pressing all of him against the length of his body.

Bucky bit his bottom lip, causing Steve to grunt when the sharp incisors of his teeth stabbed into the soft flesh that had him parting his lips. It had Bucky slip his tongue into his mouth, moaning, licking into him so earnest and filthy, and so, so beautiful.

Steve drank it all, all the noises Bucky made with a hot need that lit up with all the blood inside him. It had him moving, taking a step forward, before another, forcing Bucky to blindly follow him back without ever pulling his mouth away from him, kissing him again and again until he felt lightheaded from the assault. 

Without another thought, Steve turned them around and slammed Bucky against the wall, causing him to gasp in surprise. But he was refusing to lean back, his lips still bumping into Steve’s in a feather-like kiss. 

When Bucky laughed, it was breathless and giddy, his bottom lip dragging across Steve’s tauntingly. “Christ.”

“Nah, just me,” The grasp Steve had on Bucky’s hips smoothed up his abdomen, liking how his fingers spread across the expanse of his skin.

“Jackass,” Bucky groaned lightly when Steve cupped his chest, thumbs flicking against his nipples that had Bucky rolling his hips against him. “Maybe I should pray, for protection from the devil who’s going to eat me alive.”

“If I’m a devil,” Steve brought his kisses to Bucky’s chin, fitting his lips over the cleft as if he was kissing his mouth. “Then, you’re one too.”

Bucky chuckled, one of his hands sweeping down Steve’s back before he burrowed his hand into his shirt, touching the skin there. “Vampires. Devils. Creatures of the damned. Po-tae-to, po-tah-to.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve nipped his chin as a reprimand. “Devils exist and we’re not them.”

Bucky hummed, and Steve allowed him to shed his jacket off, before Bucky’s hands were back to the hem of his shirt. When he spoke, it was soft, almost genuine.

“Dear God, forgive me for my sins. Dear God, I have betrayal dripping from my fingers for plunging them into the black circle of Damnation that you have scorned others for their insolence, for their idiocy, for their arrogance. Are they not your creatures, my Lord? Are they not your creations you have made from the existence of time? From the beginning of the speck of our world?”

“Dear God, have mercy. I beg of you, have mercy,” Bucky moaned when Steve wrapped his mouth around a nipple, sucking on the nub while a finger slipped through the crack of his ass. “I ask forgiveness for all the wretched things I’ve done. I ask your mercy for my inability to stop this need in my body and mind— fuck, _Steve_.”

“Keep going,” Steve rumbled, the tip of his dry forefinger already dipping into his hole. 

“Dear God, have mercy upon my soul,” Bucky was quivering, hand fisted into Steve’s shirt as his breaths started to shorten out. “Dear God— Steve, Steve, oh my god.”

“Did you do this?” Steve growled, out of his mind at how easily he slipped his finger into Bucky’s entrance. He was already loose, wet from what lube he used when he was in the shower. 

Which meant he knew. Which meant all that doubt was just a show.

Steve wanted to laugh. Unbelievable.

“Like you said,” Bucky let his head slump against the wall, exposing the arch of his neck as he gazed at Steve through his lashes. “You’re not the only one.”

“Fucking hell,” Steve cursed, slamming their mouths together so hard that teeth clanked. Bucky groaned, kissing him as hard as Steve was.

Steve bent down and scooped Bucky up by the back of his legs, causing Bucky to yelp into his mouth in surprise as he instinctively wrapped his legs around his waist to hold on for dear life. 

Blindly, Steve manoeuvred them around the living room before they stumbled into Bucky’s room, not bothering to switch on the lights when Steve fell down with him on the bed.

He made sure he didn’t crush Bucky under his weight, an elbow planted beside his head as he kissed and kissed Bucky as if his very existence depended on it, wanting to have a piece of him fitted into Steve that it would become a part of him then and forever. He’d bring Bucky around everywhere he would go, and Steve would live with it until he died.

Bucky clawed Steve’s shirt off, the offending clothing finally out of the way, and there was no stopping how Bucky palmed his body like he had been dreaming of doing it for a long time. It was a solid reassurance that sailed across Steve’s stomach, up his sides, and before hands slid up his chest and across the breadth of his shoulders.

It was a surprise to Steve when he was flipped around on the bed, causing him to blink up at where Bucky was grinning down at him with a twinkle in his eye. Both of his legs bracketed his hips, bare and strong, and Steve couldn’t help but touch him there as he met Bucky’s look above him.

“I wanna ride you,” was what came out of Bucky’s reddened and swolen mouth, and the admission shot Steve right in the fucking heart before it spread across his body with scorching warmth.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, because fuck, he wanted Bucky to ride him. He really, really wanted him to. “Yeah, Buck.”

It had Bucky crash him another kiss, demanding and distracting, as he unbuckled Steve’s jeans with practiced hands while Bucky licked into his mouth again. He tugged them down, and Steve scrambled to help before he tossed the pants at the shadowed corners of the room, not giving a single fuck at where it went.

Steve was left in his underwear, chest heaving from where he was leaning against the headboard with Bucky on him, who had brought his kisses down his neck before they flitter across his chest. Bucky slithered down his body, his kisses soft and quick with impatience, fingers hooking onto the band of his underwear.

Bucky pulled it slowly down, kissing Steve’s trail as he did so, his dick springing free that the cold air hitting it had Steve hissing out lightly. 

“Fuck,” Bucky rolled his head up to meet his eyes, and the image of him looking at Steve with his cock near his face was almost enough to undo him right then.

Steve groaned, letting his head fall back against the headboard. “Bucky, come on.”

“Lemme enjoy this,” Steve jerked his hips up in surprise when Bucky planted a kiss on the head, who had to hold Steve down by the hip while letting his tongue flicker a lick across the slit. “You’re gonna let me enjoy this.”

Bucky opened his mouth enough to sink himself onto his cock and Steve thought he was already in nirvana.

Bucky worked on him with his fangs carefully tucked back and his fingers circling on the base of his cock. He sucked, and lavished, tongue working from the base and all the way to the tip that shouldn’t have unpooled Steve in a total mess, but he was already moaning low in his throat, gripping Bucky’s shoulder in hopes to have some dignity for himself.

Bucky shot him an unimpressed look from where he had his mouth wrapped around him, before he slid out with a _pop_ , hand reaching for Steve’s. “You can hold me.”

The rasp of his voice, the way his lips were slicked with saliva; Steve couldn’t do anything else but watch Bucky gently guide his hand to his head. Steve tested the waters by curling his fingers around the mass of dark brown hair. Bucky bared his teeth into a grin and swooped down to shove Steve’s cock back into his throat.

Steve could feel pressure building up at the tail of his spine, slowly climbing up the length of his body. It made him rut into the warm insides of Bucky’s mouth, unable to help himself feel more of him slide against his length, causing Bucky to groan and loosen his jaw just for Steve.

He pressed a thumb against the end of Bucky’s jaw, watching, when his cock slipped out of that tantalising mouth and let it bump against the corner, smearing precome against his cheek. 

Hooded eyes watched Steve from where Bucky licked it away with a prodding pink tongue. It had Steve useless, and he couldn’t help himself from pulling Bucky to him to kiss him senseless.

Enthusiastic and humming happily against him, Bucky climbed onto his lap, both knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips as he straddled Steve. It was kissing Bucky hard and long; it was feeling fingers circling around the base of his cock before Bucky hovered above him.

Heavy clouds of breaths puffed against his mouth, and Steve let his hand braced against Bucky’s waist. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just,” Bucky inhaled a shuddering breath, and he slowly sank onto Steve’s cock.

Both of them groaned out in tandem, and Steve was almost hysterical at the feeling of Bucky wrapped around him, tight and warm, just a perfect fit for him. Steve watched, entranced, as Bucky bottomed out with a small wheeze escaping his lips, moonlight touching the curve of his neck, against the length of his shoulder, on every exposed skin from where he bowed over Steve, hand planted on the headboard behind him.

He was beautiful, almost unreal.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Bucky chuckled out breathlessly, shoving his face into his arm, and Steve realised he said that out loud, something he didn’t mind when Bucky was tinged pink around the corners. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

Steve let his thumb brush against his hip bone. “Just tellin’ it the way it is.”

“Mm-hmm. Charmer,” Bucky grinned, and there was no stopping him, really, when he lifted himself up an inch before sinking down again.

And again.

They found a pace they liked, with Bucky bouncing up and down his cock while Steve met his advances half-way, still clutching tight onto Bucky’s hip to have something to hold onto, the same way Bucky had both hands pushing against his chest.

A tumble of sweet nothings escaped through his lips, and Steve watched Bucky turn redder than before, refusing to look at him when he pressed his face into his shoulder with an embarrassed groan. “You’re a sweet talker, aren’t you?”

“Aw, you can’t handle some praise, honey?” Steve teased, laughing a bit when he felt fingers digging deeper into his skin.

“Shut up,” Bucky muffled out against his shoulder, and slammed his ass against Steve’s hips that had him gasping out in surprise.

Steve could feel his smile. “What was that?” Bucky fauxed whispered, bringing his mouth to his ear. “Can’t hear you. You gotta be louder, Steve.”

Bucky lifted himself up that only the head of Steve’s cock was inside of him, taunting, before slammed down again that had Steve seeing stars and Bucky whimpering into his ear.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve said with feeling, at the same time Bucky choked out, “I’m close.”

Bucky dragged his lips against his shoulder, almost searchingly, teeth teasing against his skin. Steve realised why the feeling was so familiar. He rested a hand onto Bucky’s nape. “You can drink from me.”

It made Bucky flinched back, wide eyes meeting his awaiting gaze. “What?”

“You can drink from me,” Steve brushed a thumb against his chin, trailing it up to the corner of his mouth. “I know you want to.”

“But I don’t— I’m not hungry?”

Bucky was clearly confused at the sudden offer, but Steve gave him a smile. “But do you want to?”

Their little movements had paused during the time Bucky watched him, something thoughtful in his gaze while having Steve’s cock stuffed full inside of him. Steve was tempted to move his hips again, but waited, the same thumb brushing against his cheek.

Then, Bucky nodded, a hand landing onto Steve’s chest. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Alright.” Steve smiled widely, cranning his head to kiss Bucky deeply that had him sighing into his mouth, his arm wrapped around him while Bucky started to move again.

He pulled back to kiss one side of Steve’s mouth, before going lower to the edge of jaw, and finally pressed another kiss on his neck.

Steve could feel his soft lips lingering onto his collarbone, before they searched for his pulse with a dragging movement that had him holding onto Bucky tighter. 

Bucky gave a lick against his skin, and another, before he hesitated.

Steve rubbed a hand over his spine. “It’s okay, honey.”

That was all the reassurance Bucky needed before he pulled back his lips and sank his fangs into Steve.

Steve took a deep breath to ease the prickling feeling away. With Bucky occupied with his neck, fingers subconsciously caressing his chest, Steve slipped his arms under Bucky’s thighs and lifted him up that had Bucky mewling softly from the drag of his cock against his walls. Steve had to close his eyes for a second before opening them again.

Then, ruthlessly, Steve dropped Bucky back onto his cock at the same time he thrusted up, causing Bucky to wail from his place on Steve’s neck.

Steve did it again, and again; Bucky came up gasping when he ripped himself off Steve, blood dripping down his chin. “ _Steve_ ,” Bucky gasped, and he was beautiful with his skin painted red, spotting against his chest that Steve couldn’t help himself to lick a long stripe on the valley between his tits to clean him all up.

“Bite me,” Bucky begged, grinding his hips against his cock that had Steve groaning against his collarbone. “Bite me like I bit you. I want,” Bucky staggered in a breath. “I want you to _._ ”

“Are you sure?” Because it was one thing to let Bucky feed from him, but it was another if Steve did it. Steve didn’t know why the thought of sinking his teeth into Bucky was making him pause, but his body lit up at the idea. It had his mouth salivating already, and Steve had to press his mouth against Bucky’s clavicle to ask for some self-control. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Bucky croaked out, gripping onto his hair and directing Steve’s face to his neck. It had him inhaling the smell of Bucky there, invading all of his senses that it was all _Bucky_. “Steve, please, I want you to feed from me.”

Jesus Christ. It made Steve groan, peppering little kisses up and down Bucky’s neck desperately. His fangs were already growing, gums aching.

When Steve sank his teeth into him, Bucky gasped, tightening his hold on the hair of his nape.

The familiar taste of blood burst in his mouth but there was something different than when Steve had fed on humans. Bucky’s blood was sweeter, stronger, and it hit Steve right between the eyes that had him moaning lowly in his throat. He could feel the blood rushing through his veins, flowing through his heart, and it lit him up like a fucking Christmas tree on fire.

No wonder Bucky liked it so much. It was as if someone put steroids in his food and Steve felt like he could run for _days_.

Bucky clearly enjoyed this too, with all of Steve pressing against him in all the right places while his teeth were deep in him as much as his dick was. It had Bucky squirming in place, moving his hips to get some leverage, and that was when Steve faintly realised his leaking cock was bobbing against his abdomen.

Steve reached between them and wrapped his fingers around Bucky’s neglected cock, humming when Bucky let out a shout at the sudden touch, back arching into him.

It had Bucky coming, white strips of come splattering in his fist and onto Steve’s front, his hole fluttering around his cock as wave after wave of pleasure passed through him. Steve groaned, before he was tipping over the edge as well, filling Bucky up with his own release.

Bucky let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sob, and Steve detached himself from his neck by pulling back his teeth. He lovingly licked the wound close and the excess blood that managed to seep through, watching the punctures closed up.

“That was fucking amazing,” Steve murmured, to which Bucky nodded in agreement.

And then, both of them slumped onto each other.

* * *

  
Steve didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he woke up to the smell of smoke.

He blinked open his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Bucky leaning against the opened window. A cigarette hung between his fingers from where he was looking down at the streets, empty still when the sun was barely up. Its lavender glow kissed the exposed skin of his naked body, resting against the lines of his face and the dips of his legs. Bucky looked relaxed, enjoying the weather when it would’ve been freezing to any normal people.

Steve didn’t know where he got a pack, but that didn’t matter. Steve drank him in, marvelling the beauty Bucky held with him from where he kept quiet, not wanting to ruin the peaceful air hanging around them.

Bucky took a long inhale of the cigarette, letting it swivel inside him, before releasing the smoke through his nose. He probably knew Steve was awake because when he spoke, it was soft, as if he, too, was afraid to disturb this. 

“I feel like I want to see them.”

Steve watched Bucky roll the cigarette between his fingers. “Your family?”

Bucky let out a hum, but didn’t take another drag of the stick. Instead, he lifted his head to meet Steve’s eyes. “It’s scaring me shitless, but,” He thinned his mouth together. “I think they deserve to know the truth that I’m not actually dead.”

Steve knew how much the Barnes meant to Bucky; they were his family after all. It was as obvious as the sun that slowly rose to greet them for a new day, that he loved them. He missed them. 

Steve pushed the duvet away from him and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Then, he made his way towards Bucky, who didn’t move an inch when Steve wrapped his arms around his waist from behind. He pressed a kiss onto his neck, just above the same place where Steve bit him last night. “You thought about this?”

“For a while,” Bucky confirmed, leaning against him. “I know it’s going to be hard, and there’s a high chance they won’t believe me in the beginning and even after, but I think I like to try.”

Bucky held up the cigarette to Steve as an offer, and Steve leaned over his shoulder and took a drag out of it, feeling the way it hit his chest before releasing the smoke with a tilt of his head. Then, Steve pressed another kiss onto his nape. “I’ll be here, if you ever need me.”

“I do. Need you, I mean,” Bucky tipping his head back against his shoulder, lips pursed. “I don’t think I can stand watching their faces alone when I tell them that I’d be outliving them in another few decades.”

That was the disadvantage of being an immortal who will live for a long time; some might say having the time of the world to your expense was something you should cherish, because not everyone is given that chance. Not everyone can do everything they wanted in the short span of their life, and that didn’t include the people who had their lives shortened out due to inevitable illnesses. 

Being a vampire, Steve learned, was getting used to being lonely, despite having close friends. But, he didn’t want Bucky to feel the same way. He didn’t want Bucky to go through what Steve did in the earlier years when he had been alone. Steve wouldn’t allow it.

“I’ve met people who knew what I am,” Steve began, resting his cheek against Bucky’s head. “And I learned that I couldn’t do anything about what they feel about me. Some people would accept me, even if they couldn’t in the beginning. Some people just refused to see me again because they thought I was insane.” Steve smiled, the old sadness he kept deep inside him unfurling again. “I had to leave to make sure I’d protect myself. The people then usually didn’t take it too kindly when the thought of something other than them walked around free.”

“‘The devil came up to cause havoc among the people’ and all that, huh?” Bucky asked, inhaling the cigarette again.

“Yeah. It was because someone saw me feeding, and if I didn’t get away as fast as I did, I’d have a revolver blasted into my face.” Steve sighed. “It was a messy night. I had to leave that town the next second.”

Bucky slipped his fingers between Steve’s from where they rested on his stomach. “Is that the reason why you didn’t want to run when Sam and Natasha were here?”

“That’s part of it,” Steve confirmed, squeezing his fingers. “That house we stayed in? It was furthest from the town. An hour ride by horse, fifty-five if you push it. For some reason, the people were extra superstitious then, and we didn’t really find out why until the news of rogue vampires killing people for fun came along. And then, it was like Salem again.”

“People got hanged for anything suspiciously supernatural?”

Steve nodded. “We were careful for years. Got almost captured by them when we were running around, and then the first World War happened. People were more worried about what was happening in their faces than to think about fairy tales where monsters were drinking your blood at night.” 

He paused, watching the first ray of sunshine touch their arms, barely feeling anything how early it was. “But, they are one type of people. There are others. I’ve had people who knew I’m a vampire and still wanted to be friends with me, to spend their time with me. I watched them grow old. I buried their casket with their families.” 

Steve remembered the smiles the people he was close with would give him whenever they saw him, the happiness that took place whenever they spent time with him. They protected him, making sure there were no suspicions. He held their hands when they took their last breaths. His loyalty in them never wavered when they needed his help.

He tightened his arms around Bucky, and he gave Steve a kiss on his jaw as an act of comfort. “The thing is, they’re gonna be terrified at what we are, at first. And if they’re willing to listen, they’d accept us in the end.”

“That’s the terrifying thing, isn’t it?” Bucky said softly. “Them not accepting us.”

“Yeah,” Steve couldn’t deny that. It was simply a fact to them. He nuzzled the side of Bucky’s face. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there with you. If it doesn’t go the way we hope, I’ll get you out. I promise.”

Bucky stabbed the cigarette into the ashtray he balanced on the window sill, before turning around in Steve’s hold. Bucky snaked his arms around his shoulders, hugging him close. Steve was all too ready to give him what he needed. “I know you will,” Bucky murmured. “I just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Yeah, Buck.” Steve closed his eyes. “Me too.”

* * *

It was two days later when Bucky psyched himself enough to go back to his childhood house. It was a forty-five minute drive, and Steve had used his bike to weave their way through the roads and past the people walking around the city.

Bucky clutched onto him tightly; Steve knew it wasn’t because of the speed of the bike, or how winter was beginning to fully set in as the freezing cold wind bit their bodies.

When they arrived, Steve had rolled the bike directly to a stop in front of the Barnes’ house. It was like any other suburban neighbourhood house, with a lawn and a swing on the porch. There were also a couple of cars parked in the driveway, with an opened porch where three bicycles were kept in it. 

They sat on the bike for a moment, taking it all in. Bucky was still holding onto Steve’s jacket, body as tense as a rod as he stared at his family home.

Steve was careful in taking off his helmet, not wanting to scare Bucky. He looked over his shoulder. “You ready?”

Bucky took off his helmet too, face pulled down with worried lines as he met Steve’s look. 

“Hey,” Steve called out gently, reaching back to offer his hand that Bucky didn’t hesitate to take. “I’m here. We’ll be fine.”

Bucky nodded. Both of them quietly got off the bike and made their way to the front door, footsteps barely heard on the walkway. Steve put a hand on the small part of his back to make Bucky at ease, even if his hands were shoved deep into his jacket pockets as they stopped right in front of the door.

Bucky locked his jaw, staring at the doorbell. 

Steve gave him all the time he needed, only standing by his side, always being there whenever Bucky needed him.

Then, Bucky lifted his hand and pressed it.

The way it rang pierced through the thick cloud hanging on top of them.

Someone was coming down the stairs, and Bucky seemed to know who it was from how he tensed further in his spot. Steve rubbed a comforting hand up his back.

When the door opened, a woman who had Bucky’s eyes and streaks of grey on her hair stood in front of them. She was wearing a light pink sweater, her reading glasses pushed to the top of her head. 

She gaped at Bucky, not even realising that he wasn’t alone, frozen on the spot with her hand clutching onto the door.

“Jamie?” She breathed out, unbelieving and shocked.

Bucky offered a small smile, eyes glittering. “Hi, Ma.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk with me on Twitter [@chocmarss](https://twitter.com/chocmarss) :)


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